There is a heavy snowstorm on its way.
It was pitch black outside. Her usual quarry slept, tucked away in deep burrows or sheltered by distant evergreens. Hunger had to be suffered through. Everything was frozen solid and still, even the midday sun wasn't enough to thaw the thickets out. The air was heavy with the cold and the impending snow. It was the storm's pressure that woke her from a restless sleep.
Asleep, she took in a breath that caught within her chest and blinked her eyes open. She was instantly awake, restless even, but her gaze slid slowly through the darkness of their den. It was difficult to distinguish his actual presence from constant, permeating scent. The pale woman eased out into the cold, dark night, taking care in the placement of paws and holding her breath till beyond the den's entrance. There was nothing wrong in what she was doing, yet she still felt like a thief stealing away without word. Iopah feared the words that would come as a reply to her explanation.
The direction of today's search had been decided the night before. In the darkness pale feet followed a well memorized route towards the border that edged the cedars. There was no one to avoid, and her pace increased as the distance to the border decreased. For three weeks she'd been searching for the lost Woodland wolves, bringing back only what lucked into her path. Based on the emptiness that ripped her insides, everyone else had to be hungry. No one had said anything, but she knew time was running out. If she stopped to explain her actions and how her fruitless days were, they would have an opportunity to suggest stopping the search.
The border was in sight now and Iopah slowed to what she hoped was a casual pace. She had to resist the urge to sneak over her own borders, light gray ears flicking wildly as the marks passed under her. The search started immediately. A black nose fell to the snow just as a soft noise echoed in the cold air. Iopah froze, nose held just over the snow, and watched the dark forest around her.