Whitewater Gorge put me in the dirt, let me dream with the stars

He was the first wolf she had seen since stepping onto the beach, the first to disrupt her solitude with her mere presence. It had been a fine few days, hunting for herself, doing what she wished, everywhere she went being new and brimming with potential. She knew that she couldn't go on like this forever; she was a wolf, and wolves would not live alone for long. Besides, winter was coming, and she remembered enough fractured memories of frigid cold to know that it was not a kind season. It was this that had her grow still and watch the boy instead of disappearing in a wide arc around him, still and silent and wondering.