Fairspell Meadow you could set fire

She wasn't much of a fan of wide open spaces, having been born within the confines of a thick canopy and winding tunnels, but she couldn't deny what they gave her. The open meadows and praries that surrounded the Woods — Meadowlark Prairie to the south-and-west, Wildberry Meadow to the north-and-west, Hoshor Plains to the north past the lake, and Fairspell Meadow, the one she was in now, to the south-and-east — provided ample herbs for her to cultivate for the pack for both benefactor and malicious purposes alike. With summer quickly ending and the green only recently returning to the Wilds, Potema spent more and more time outside of the Woods, gathering every stalk, leaf, and root she could before winter could steal it all from her. She faintly thought about planting a garden, but decided she liked travelling too much. Perhaps, for those rare and faraway plants. Perhaps, when she grew old and feeble.

Travelling allowed her to clear her mind, to experience all that the world had to offer. It also let her meet new wolves. As she crossed the meadows, a skinned fox-pelt dangling from her jaws, filled with what herbs she could find, she saw a pale bundle of fur trudging through the grasses. He was thin and worn, starving and lost. Curious, she walked towards the boy chuffing softly. Lost? She said through her gritted teeth, still grasping the bundle.