Duck Lake This is the face of a miracle. A real and true and tragic-beyond-imagination miracle

She didn't know where she was going, these terrains all new to her but she knew she had to make herself familiar. If Sriracha wanted to create new life in the grove, to keep his band of wolves together he managed to gather in just a handful of days, and if Ocra wanted to stay with him, she had to explore. Even with an injured shoulder, mostly controlled by a little medicine for pain, she would get out and about and find her way around.

Ocra had probably gone a little too far than she should, with no sign of her companions nearby, she struggled to keep her gait even and smooth. Eventually, she gave in to the pain and began favoring her right shoulder. Being alone in an unknown land was less than desired but she couldn't fake it anymore.

Up ahead, near the lake she'd come across, stood—quite unsteadily—another wolf with dark fur. Ocra blinked a few times to realize something had to be wrong and she wondered whether or not she needed to investigate. Several possibilities ran through her mind but hesitantly she continued on, trying once more to mask the limp. She chuffed, once, to draw attention to herself to better see if she were safe in the strangers presence or not.