the western lands varied from the eastern. the east was a scatter of forest nestled between the arms of the mountains and the taigas. the west was open grassland with only the distant shadows upon the horizon to indicate the summits and peaks that lay beyond. a thin, silver ribbon of river was visible from the sunspire ranges -- totoka, regrouping in its flow from the sea.

feredir could not refrain from slowing to examine the signs of life as she padded silently through the sea of grass. it felt too big and still of a place to draw attention to herself with unnecessary noise. at least it would until the pair of moonwolves caught up with the buffalo herds returning from their winter grazing territories. 

the grass was tall, again a circumstance that was dependent upon contact with the bison, and covered much of the scarring of buffalo wallows and the scraping of thousands of heavy hooves in a blanket of gold. 

even so, the steppes were riddled with the signs of small grass-dwellers. 

flowers bloomed beneath the spring sun, birds cried angrily from their hidden nests and flitted about threateningly whenever a suspicious creature ventured too close, insects sang. the ground was dimpled with the furrowing tunnels of mole and prairie dog. 

the herd-stalker happened across the tracks of a turkey and some disturbed reeds, lowering herself shakily into a crouch -- creeping through the grass as she stalked along the hen's trail. it might make a good evening meal for she and @Saviguk.