Sleepy Fox Hollow the kids don't care if you're alright, honey

forward-dated to 10/11
tagging diaspora members for visibility @Mahler @Takiyok @Ketzia @Nyx @Stag @Mesa @Trench @Julien

The more she searches, the more apparent it becomes that the scarcity of prey is not isolated to one area; it is everywhere, same as Razikale's violent fits (no doubt provoked by Zazikel's mischief, she thinks with a hint of pride). At least, everywhere she's seen so far. She knows she cannot venture much further without her companions at her side, so the search for game to hunt shifts into a search for something else: a pack. Any group of wolves, really.
It has been too long since she last paid tribute to her patron, and now he forces her hand; she half-wonders if the gesture is directed at her — but it's a foolish thought, dismissed quickly as she turns her attention fully to her trek through the mountains. Surrounded by stone on all sides, she descends over cutting patches of loose rock and weather-hardened debris, sighing through her nose when the wind flings the smaller fragments against her. Her gaze remains focused on her goal despite the tiny stinging impacts and the burning of her torn pads: a pocket of life tucked within the mountains, painted warm and brilliant with autumn shades. It's beautiful, almost ethereal from her distance. The scenery is of little interest to her, however. It is the scent of wolves that draws her in, steps light and quick as she enters the Hollow with a newfound purpose.
She keeps to the outskirts of the meadow at first, lingering in the shadowy places where tree meets mountainside, crouched, muzzle low. Her search lasts only minutes, to her satisfaction. Though the cache is small, consisting of only a rabbit haunch and the lower half of some sort of bird, it is clearly fresh — and unguarded. Easy. Ignoring the nearby scent of young wolves despite the uncomfortable prickling of her conscience, she leans down and snatches both morsels without a second thought. She does not look back after she turns away, bolting in the direction she'd come without regard for her already-ragged paws or the wheeling bits of debris thrown at her by the wind. Her heart beats fast in her ears, and all she can hear as she flees is its insistent pounding set over the whistle of violent winds. A laugh slips from her as she disappears into the mountains, drunk on adrenaline and the electric feeling of success.
She knows she will be back soon; it'd simply been too easy, reminiscent of her first mission as an apprentice in Minrathous. The moment she'd truly known that she was meant for the life of a thief. It feels like that moment all over again, and she cannot fight the sense that it is some kind of divine intervention: the voice of her patron calling to her in the only way he knows how. Her jaws tighten around her prize, gaze lifting briefly to the horizon. A soft, distant rumble seems to answer her, and she returns to her companions with the lightness of Zazikel's blessing in her heart and her step.