Sun Mote Copse world's water

The Hinterland had become Tuwawi's haven turning the famine, safe from both the mountains and coastal reaches. She had secured a seitch -- a den that was a size to small -- amongst the cedars, but a life alone was taxed with strife. Food became nearly impossible to track and the red matron's physique withered to paper thin. Man's collar hung loosly around her chicken neck, crimson mantle dulled by the sun, and yet the ornery she-wolf did not stop trying to live despite the adverse circumstances. 

Another failed hunt left the matron empty handed, but when Tuwawi passed the Copse she noticed a seductive perfume wafting on the breeze. A pang of wretched jealousy twisted in her breast, though she found herself tracking the scent all the same. Soon, the forest opened up to a stream where a maiden stood in the water by the banks. Tuwawi made a small chuff noise as she approached the opposite shore, currious as to why the young, and suspiciously healthy looking, waif stood so flippantly out in the open.