She had forgotten the excitement that packlife could bring, or rather she had never experienced it while within her prior home. What transpired since coming to the Vale was nothing short of test to the senses and will, as well as what one could manage when under the pressure of duty. There had been the excitement of the chase when a trespasser entered their midst. The psychological strain of having to mend a broken form. And of course the hormonal effects as spring came on its rise, turning normally composed individuals into creature driven only by their most basic instincts. One might call it desperation, but she would call it madness of the spring.
And there were many more events, she could foresee, yet to befall the wolves of the Vale. Let alone herself. She only hoped her inner strength would allow her to see it through with her sense of self intact.
But rather than dwell in doubt for the day, she chose instead an activity that brought her relief. As opposed to staring at the mountain peaks, she thought it best to scale them and have for herself a gander at the winter stripped lands below. It was a contrast to the lush haven of the Vale, one she took pride in each time she thought of her home. On the other side of the peaks, she spied the barren branches of lone trees, the prints of fodder herded together as they walked the open grounds for vegetation to consume and water to drink. She was able to taste the crispness of the air, and with it the aroma of her home rolling over the snowcapped tops and down again into the basin of the mountain. And she followed it, her steps skilled and careful upon the mountain face. Few stones turned underpaw, but those that did rang out with the sharp cries of their freedom, rolling from their impressive heights to the unforgiving ground below. |