Qeya River over the hills and far away

@Apple, backdated a few days

Today's hunting trip took him outside the bounds of the Maplewood, his path meandering up toward the small mountain range that separated the southern taiga from the true north. Slightly worn out from the exertion, Shale paused for a drink and a rest at the cold, fast-flowing river, droplets falling from his muzzle as he breathed deep, stirring the surface of the water. The coolness on his maw was the only respite from an incredibly hot day; he found himself panting more often than not, this past moon.

The pups were fine, happy and healthy, and Pema was getting back into the swing of things. Barring some tragedy, it seemed that the most anxious time had passed. This time, his story would have a happy ending. Though he had been well within his right to worry, all his anxiety had been for naught. They were alive. They were whole. It was all he could ask for.

Shale smiled, the expression stretching his lips almost painfully. He was bowled over by how well it had all gone. And while the pressure was still on him to bring home the bacon for his family, so to speak, it was easier, now. Soon, they would pretty much raise themselves. Develop personalities of their own. His past litter had been so young, all they had was their names and pelts--this would be different.

He took one last lap from the river, then stepped back and inhaled, deeply, trying to ascertain whether there was prey nearby--and if so, how close it was.