Deepwood Weald Who to follow but my own troubled self

Hope you don't mind me!

After a time, when she had had her fill of the southern shores, she'd once more turned her sights north.  It had been her hope she'd fare better in leaving, and perhaps she had - likely if she'd stayed the famine would have killed her - but she was unaware.  She hadn't found what she sought in her old stomping grounds;  Her old crew was long gone, seemingly scattered to the winds, presumably disbanded.  

Unfortunate.  But that was the way of things.  She stuck around long enough to ensure there were no prospects there, then grudgingly knew what she had to do.  So she returned... not to Saltwinter.  She imagined the 'queen' of the shore would love the chance to sink her teeth in Rosalyn's neck, and she very much would like to avoid that happening.  

No, better to stay well south.  The forests provided her enough small game to get some of her strength up, but life as a loner had left her slight and hungry.  

She was scavenging that day when she saw the other wolf, a stranger standing oddly stock-still among the thick trees.  Rosalyn froze, her breath sucking in as she anticipated attack.  After a moment of appraising her, she drew the conclusion that the other was alone, at least at the moment.  So maybe she was not to be chased off after all.