Emberwood my smile's an open wound.

The passing days had been uneventful for Whittier. His paws had taken him to the West for about half a day before he realized that he had just come from that exact direction, and so he had spun North to trek alongside of the mountains. He had come close to the territories of wolf packs, but had kept his distance simply out of reluctance to deal with the whole dominance, defensiveness or even the recruitment games. He knew that others of his kind were always his best bet for finding what he sought, but he was tired, he was hungry, and he was frustrated, and those emotions had always had a very poor affect on his logic.

The woods he stood in now were an interesting sight, but unlike what the territory description in the guidebook suggests, Whittier was not immediately put at ease. He wound his way through the tall white stalks almost aimlessly. It had been a few days since his last meal and even that had been a measly one - some half-eaten duck that tasted more like coyote spit than anything. Blech. It was his hunger that made him pause when he came to upon the small lake within a large clearing in the forest. His gaze swept slowly across the flat plate of water. It was perfectly still except for the chatter and rustling of a few ducks on the far side. His attention was more on the cacophonous sound of what seemed to be a thousand billion frogs chirping rambunctiously at each other from their hidden spots along the beds.

Whittier licked his lips eagerly and set off towards the sound.