Splash! Teeth clamped around slimy scales, and droplets flew as Finley raised her head. The fish flailed, raining bloody droplets into the lake as the bulky wolf turned tail and trotted back towards land. Silly little grayling didn’t stand a chance. She entertained its struggle til her paws left the water, when its tail slapped her face and she silenced it with a firm bite.

It’d been a couple days since the northwestern wolf reached the Kintla Flatlands, following a thin river upstream; a lake was in sight, and in the distance she could make out a mountain in the middle of an otherwise flat plain. Odd. Perhaps Finley would pay it a visit. Or she’d venture away from the water, towards an even more distant woods. An entire mountain range towered to the east, as if challenging her to pass. So many options—but did she have the time? Despite the summer humidity, there was a chill in the air this afternoon, a warning: autumn was around the corner.

But that was later. For now, Finley had a nice plump fish in her maw and nothing else mattered. She settled a short walk from the river’s edge and gnawed idly on the grayling’s face. If there was one advantage to being a lone wolf, it was not having to share prey. But she’d give all the food in the world to belong somewhere again, and she scanned the landscape for someone who could point her in the right direction.