Deepwood Weald The primroses were over.

It had been the first time in days that she had offered to go beyond the pack borders and out into the wilderness. She had no agenda, no desire to do anything more than run until her limbs achedandd her lungs begged for repireve. Only then did she slow to a weary gait, blending back in with the snow and foliage.

She had expected her adventure to be mundane, blissfully boring, because she had suffered too much excitement in the past week or so. Being startled by a large rodent shot out like a cannonball from gods knew where was not on her plan for the day. She skittered off to the side as it squealed something in its strange little tongue, hackles raised and ears pinned. Her nerves were frayed, and she felt foolish for spooking so easily.

As the bunny fussed on his back, Muses found herself able to even her breathing and slow her heartbeat once more. It did not take her long to round on the little thing. "Why, you're all burned!" She mused out loud, shoving her nose close to the exposed belly, looming over the rabbit like a harbinger of death. Of course, she had no intention of eating the poor thing. Beneath his burned fur she could tell he was nothing more than tough, old meat. She was not desperate for food, and had a more refined pallet. Half cooked bunny could hardly be considered appetizing. Still, she was rather curious - what were the odds that this poor old man escaped the fires that had razed her former home?