Grezig trudged ever onward, into the mire and not around it. She was stubborn. She did not care about getting dirty. And she could see fish swimming in the water. Fish were food, if you could catch them. Grezig was not used to hunting fish. Up until a few months ago, she had been part of her natal pack. They had hunted large ungulates, not fish. Grezig was learning that dispersing from her pack meant many more changes than she could have imagined. She supposed it was a good thing that it was summer and not winter. Still, despite her bull-headedness, she knew that being alone was not better than being part of a pack. But for a pack, one needed a mate. 

Grezig was two years old now. She was sexually mature, but she had missed the breeding season. She would have to wait until next year to have pups, and by then, she hoped to have a mate on hand to help with that. For that to happen, however, she needed to live long enough. She had never heard of a lone wolf surviving for an entire year. What would she do when winter hit? She could not survive winter on her own. She could not hibernate like a bear. She would have to attempt to join a pack.

It was not common for wolf packs to accept strangers into their ranks. Grezig would have to show that she was not a threat to them and that she could pull her own weight. Perhaps, if she found a pack, she could bring them some kind of gift, like a fox to bury in their caches. That would show that she was useful. She could hunt. She wondered if they would accept a fish, looking down into the murky water she was standing in. She wondered then if she could even catch a fish. She watched as one lazily swam nearby and held still as it approached her, unaware that she was anything more than large reeds in the water.

As it came closer, she snapped it up into her jaws, quick as a flash, and then went to find a relatively dry area where she could lay down and eat it.

Grezig was still eating when the yip sounded nearby, pulling her head sharply up from her food. She immediately growled, ears pushed forward aggressively, trying to find the one who had made the noise and rudely interrupted her from her meal. She would kill over food, especially as a lone wolf. Every meal counted, every meal helped keep her alive, and she would not give up this fish without a fight. She spotted a murky shape somewhere in the mire and trained her ears and eyes upon it, continuing her growl. (In reality, the coywolf probably didn’t even care about the fish, but Grezig didn’t know that and wouldn’t have cared even if she did. This was her fucking food and poor Tadec was gonna have a hard time trying to have a conversation with her until she had finished eating it).