King Elk Forest i'm just taking a greyhound on the hudson river line

Green eyes flashed in the darkened wood, the glow of dusk casting a soft light on the wolf. She groomed her pelt meticulously, but her shoulders, ribs, and hips stood out against her thin summer coat. Her body had lost its youthful roundness, having been replaced with hard lines and sharp edges. The last season or so had changed her considerably. Standing here was no longer a girl, but a soldier. Conclusion: she would survive.

 Viper Eremos pushed herself forward, determined to hunt and find a place to rest before nightfall. Her slight form weaved through the low conifer branches, their soft green needles tickling her neck and back. Orange evening sun dappled her autumn pelt, lightening it to the color of ripe persimmons. Her gaze flitted from one tree to the next, scanning the undergrowth for squirrel or hare--she was too small to catch elk from the herd that roamed in its namesake. But the only sounds in the forest were birdsong and the whisper of the wind through the woodland.

With a sigh of frustration, she padded into a small glade, circling the treeline to decide where to try next.