Seaside Moors with cankered peace to part your cankered hate

There were other wolves around; Sif's dark-brown body was coiled tight as she traveled through the dusk, body held low even though there was no one around to submit to. It was better to be ready. She didn't want to have to think about it if she came across another - something the young shewolf both dreaded and desired in equal measures.

Except, it must not have been that equal; she froze in place when she caught a particularly strong whiff of wolfscent, and when she could move again, altered her trajectory to avoid the source of the scent.

Soon, but not yet. She wasn't ready.

Sif moved toward the sea, seeking the comfort of home. She'd lived by the sea her whole life, and although she was wary of getting hemmed in with no place to go, she wasn't above swimming to escape, either. She'd be fine. She was always fine.