Felltree Marsh kids, eat your yogurt

The tawny female surveyed her surroundings with a patently unimpressed air.

Tired — she wanted to lie down, but after traveling through two days' worth of snow and having to bed down in the cold, wet stuff to rest, she simply didn't trust herself.  At this point she'd be lucky to make it to the other side of the marsh by day's end.  She'd barely made it this far.  A harsh, barking cough took the breath from her lungs and left her seeing stars, but she was a stubborn old bitch.  Before she could regret her decision, she began pressing forward again, her joints creaking and cracking with every step.

Amber eyes scanned the ground intently, watching for soft patches of earth and pockets of standing water that could easily turn into the sucking, slurping kind of mud that pulled unwitting wolves under.  She didn't fear death — not really.  But she wasn't about to go down that way.  She was marginally happier when the sun began to rise, reaching its zenith and touching down upon her limping, hobbling form with some much needed warmth.

She was pretty sure it was all that damn elk's fault.