On that cold, half-lidded morning, Sirius stirred in the snow tentatively. First he peered around himself thoughtfully, flicking the snow from his ears and whiskers as he blearily took in what he could of his surroundings. He'd taken to traveling at night when it was colder and his steps were quicker, but he often couldn't tell where he was going. This made each morning an event— finally seeing what he couldn't in the dark— and it was the only thing the teen had any joy for these days. Mostly his dawns were inconsequential, but in trying to have a destination, his traveling method was a flawed technique at best and unusable at worst.
Since he had already been traveling (figuratively) blind, Sirius had well overshot his intended destination during his jaunt in the night. He realized his mistake easily enough, but a nibbling at his ear bade him not to backtrack. He looked instead to the range ahead, and solidified his resolve to move forward.
He unraveled his limbs slowly, and stretched the ice from his veins in slow, even flexes. When he was on his feet, he skipped to a trot, keeping his head low and his gaze forward. It wasn't long before the leaner-than-usual young male came to the markings of a plateaued pack barring his immediate way. Keeping the packlands to his distant left, Sirius skirted what he knew to be claimed and continued south with the intent to find his way around.
Sirius' solitude was shortlived that day. He glanced a large spot of chestnut in his peripheral, though pretended to remain ignorant of the wolf's presence as he quickened his trot. He had always gone unnoticed before, and he was loathe to know how he should act in the event he was seen. His eagerness to exit had been improvised and he felt comfortable avoiding a potential punishment, but when she called out to him, Sirius knew it was only polite to return her attentions. His mother had taught him better.
The sterling boy stopped short, turning his ears back protectively as he angled his slim muzzle towards the ground. His eyes flitted between taking in her features little by little and making sure his exit didn't become blocked by some yet unforeseen opponent. Since killing Ran, he had always assumed they would come for him, calling for retribution: a life for a life. It was nigh. He wouldn't let it catch him unawares.
Sirius cleared his throat, trying to eradicate the strange tonal changes his voice had been peddling through recently, but it was largely ineffective. Especially considering how little he had spoken in the last few months. "No, I.. I don't think so," he squawked in an effort to speak over the distance he kept. His whiskers twitched, and his eyes kept dancing. She looked like a wolf well taken care of— loved and looked after. The adolescent felt the pricking of something sharp at the back of his head as a shard of green-envy tried carving its way past his subconscious. Suddenly he seemed to think better of her question. "I was just trying to find my way around?" he tried uncertainly.
As the unwanted heft of judgement settled on his shoulders, Sirius sank slightly under the she-wolf's scrutinizing gaze. Did she know? How could she? She hadn't been Teaghlaigh... but he had disobeyed Lotte. Surely she had cronies out this far. Her legion neverending. He tucked in what was left of his tail, and deepened the bow of his skull, continuing to glance towards his chosen escape route. As much as he resembled an adult male, Sirius was very much still young-minded, and a lot of his confidence had been lost in his imaginings of himself as a fugitive.
"Well, it's not a place, r-really..." he cleared his throat again as his voice jumped uncomfortably into the high pitch of prepubescence. "I was looking for my mother," he admitted, wincing as he thought of Hemlock. "Her name's Olive. She's got white fur and green eyes," it all came spilling out, "and I haven't seen her in a long time... but I thought if I could find her, she'd help me through the cold time... because I dunno when it's going to end, if ever, and... I just need her help."
It took him a beat to catch her drift. Sirius watched her dumbly for a fraction too long, and then when it clicked that she had implied his dismissal, he felt like he'd been dunked in icy water. This was a wolf not looking for him, and in the absence of necessity his presence simply repulsed her. He didn't yet understand that his fears would no longer come off as "scared, little boy," but now read something more like "shifty, suspicious creep" without any pretext to his manners. He wasn't a wolf that still need caring for, and he didn't know that he had wanted anyone's help (not just Olive's) until he had been rejected from the option without even asking.
Crushed, and partial to fleeing anyway, Sirius turned tail and broke into a sprint, taking the most direct route out of the she-wolf's sight— and away from her borders— as quickly as he could.