Blacktail Deer Plateau miles, miles, miles

The wound stung but it would heal just as all the others before. It was her pride that suffered the greatest hurt, as the gnarled twist of her groaning stomach. Winter was roaring down from the great white north; it was not long now until it began to take, and take, and take.

A chuff jarred her--she whipped her head around and her falcon-yellow eyes quickly settled on the wolf who'd made it. She stared, breath held fast in her throat and muscles coiled tight in the event she needed to defend herself. He was not so large but just as muscular as she, with a coat that reminded her of the jagged mountains just northeast of them. His face, however, bore a similar mask of gold and an expression that could never be mistaken for ire. 

Solveig remained where she sat but slowly twisted both ears forward, "'tis foolish to disturb an injured wolf." She remarked coolly, clearly uncertain what his purpose with her was. "Have I intruded?"