Sleeping Dragon When I wake up I'll see what tomorrow brings

Food had been difficult for all of them, and it was because of this difficulty that Seregryn had kept herself away. It was easier to fend for oneself instead of the betterment of the entire pack. She would have done more, but only for Thuringwethil; the desire to keep the others fed, specifically Gyda and any outsiders, had waned hastily. So Sere had kept herself hidden. She lurked among the outskirts of this mountain home, lingered on the lower reaches or down by the river, and subsisted on what scraps she could gather together. Her belly had not been truly full in days, but a wolf could survive for many without a proper meal. The girl, hungry though she was, withered though she appeared, felt truly alive now that she raced about the territory. She lurched and curved with the natural paths, expending an excessive amount of energy as she patrolled up the mountain and down again, searching for something valuable — she came to an abrupt halt when she nearly careened in to another body, and only avoided falling down the edge of the mountain by rearing back her head and doing a little hop and twist routine. She leveled her eyes upon the being in her way, saw the gray coat, smelled the musky iron scent of fresh blood, and was immediately taken by the groaning of her stomach.