Blacktail Deer Plateau Don't be a fool for the city lights

It had been raining for few days now and Osprey thought that this kind of greeting was a little ironic. Given the fact that she had fled, when the forest had been set on fire. With many lost days she had come back to herself. It had taken even more time to realize that she was too far away from home to find her way back easily. And a while to come to terms with the fact that she had not escaped from the fire unharmed and that her eyesight was permanently damaged. The world that once had been drawn with clear lines was forever meant to be seen in blur.

If someone, who knew her, were to meet her at the moors on that rainy day, they would have hard time recognizing the once tall and proud she-wolf, because the creature that stopped by the river to have a drink and rest, was merely a shadow of what it had once been. The gray fur around her face and back had faded to white, along with the skinny stature and eyes that were sunken in their sockets, giving an impression that the wolf was very old. One could clearly tell that her gait was uneven, though it was hard to tell, which paw was to blame. At times it seemed the wolf was limping on all four. But the most prominent feature was the general weariness of the body and the soul that was hiding within. 

She had lost track of how many days she had walked, neither did she know, when she had had the rest for the last time. Because once she had recognized the familiar grounds, the instinct to return home had begun to burn strongly. Yet there were many miles ahead of her and the only thing that kept her going was the knowledge that this path would end eventually. 

Osprey crossed the river and sat down to rest. She lifted her muzzle to test the air, to catch any familiar scent at all and, when she did not, she sighed and lied down. The sheer willpower that had kept her going all this time gave up and the exhaustion took over. Not today... she muttered.