dated to april 2nd.
the wind slithered low across the taiga, sweeping between the scrub pines and frost-bitten grass, biting into her coat like a second skin. the plains were open and strange in their silence—too quiet, like something was watching just beyond the low hills. something probably was, if she looked close enough.
she hadn’t seen another wolf in days. hadn’t spoken to anyone but herself. she liked it better that way. no one to ask questions. no one to judge the way her shoulders hunched or the way her eyes flicked sideways at every sudden sound.
twitch's paws cracked through the frost-hard earth with every step. the sun was low—an amber smudge in the sky behind the towering mountains—she was getting tired.
she paused at a rise, nose lifting to scent the air. rabbit, somewhere. pine sap. snowmelt. the distant reek of old fox. nothing that worried her so far. she had to be halfway by now, and still, it felt like an eternity.
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