Wapun Meadow Wakooli

He came from the south-east.

His was an unremarkable coming, suitable for an unremarkable wolf. He passed into the country of mountains with a passing glance at their geography, for mountains had never appealed to him. The ground was too uneven underfoot and danger lurked around every corner. Farstep had crossed mountains in his travels, but never had he entertained the thought of living on one. Instinct told him the ground was safer for hunting and sleeping, and he heeded instinct.

His interest was drawn by the sprawling meadow on this eastern side of the mountain chain. He ranged toward it, pulled by the promise of level hunting grounds which, unhindered by rolling hills, was of good use to any wolf. Panting lightly in the heat of the day, Farstep found his way into the field of wild flowers and lowered his nose to the ground to sniff for signs of prey.

He had zero expectations or hopes for the outcome of this day, just like every other day in his life.