A river, she drank from it thirstily before moving through it, making sure to not get swept away or lose her footing.
She was close now, closer to home, so she put her head down again to return to her hunt, almost certain she wasn't being followed. She stalked along, tail curled, looking for a trail. A rabbit trail, a deer path, or even a fox den would be a welcome find. Something to take her mind off other things. She stalked along an imaginary path, hunting. She wouldn't go home without something for the pack.

Nothing. Nothing at all. Her head lifted just to snarl at the empty air; would her actions anger whatever spirits lingered there? 
'Screw the spirits.'

The willow loomed and towered, glowing with ethereal lights. Creatures of her mind took shape and slaughtered each other, hawks in the air swooping to catch rabbits. Foxes leaping to catch fowl. Battle -- no, death crys screamed in her ears. Her drug-addled mind watched the fog-formed events. But did not pity the losses. A call, another wolf -- her savior from throwing herself again and again into the realm the poisoned tree took her.

She shouldn't be so quick to forsake spirits of the wilds. She kept wandering, her mind not even trying to find a lost trail.