Wapun Meadow day after day, alone on a hill

When she was little, and had trouble sleeping, Miyako had taught herself to count elk. Yes, elk. Or any animal, really; it worked to keep the mind on a singular task so as to not wander, and fall asleep shortly after. She was on her nineteenth--or twenty-ninth? she had lost track--bull elk when a muffled sound close by jerked her awake.

"What the--" She clamped shut her jaws on her exclamation as she opened her eyes to find a young grey wolf staring at her in puzzlement, a dead rabbit at his paws.

Stretching languorously, she rose to her feet and shook out her pelt, debris from the ground sprinkling away like little droplets of water. "Great, you brought me dinner," Miyako greeted, her voice wry. "Who the hell are you?" He couldn't be more than a year old; he still had adolescent features, and looked quite young in the eyes as well. Maybe her little sister's age?