He tried to convince himself that he was close to Wild Rye Fields. That any moment now the dense forest would lighten and reveal the golden tundra he was looking for. And maybe if he was really lucky he could just traipse past pack borders and nobody would talk to him or ask where he had disappeared to for an entire week. He could just head straight to the little river that cut through the middle of the territory and stay there for an entire night in peace. But he knew that luck was never so kind and he tried his best to not get his hopes up.
Because all he needed to do was focus on not getting lost and/or hurt for another few hours. That he would be in pack territory before he would even know it.
But it was then—and only then, of course!—did the dark grey clouds above him spark. And somewhere on the distant horizon the storm was already brewing as the sky lit up in blinding flashes of electricity that danced and darted. Seconds later the ground rumbled as thunder boomed. Behind him Cottongrass' tail started to wag in the air behind him, nervous as his paws stumbled to a halt just as he reached the edge of one of many clearings.
He looked up into the stormy skies above only for a stray raindrop to hit him clear in the eye.