Lost Creek Hollow without you

For the first time in some time Wardruna’s belly is full, perhaps to the point of being uncomfortably so. Being a pack wolf had it’s perks and he could pretend to be as prideful as he wanted but when he is offered food to assist in regaining his strength so he can re-learn how to hunt ( and fight ) despite the lost of the vision in his left eye he does not refuse. He ate until he nearly threw it back up and then set out to find, hopefully something to bring back to the cache. Something to replace what he’s eaten. The northerner might be a savage in many respects but he believes in ‘an eye for an eye’ and he refuses to return until he’s caught something for them. The trees of the unknown territory he enters are tall, like cathedral pillars rising towards the heavens: shaded, the air cooler though it is already chilled enough. Winter might very well be breathing down the neck of these villtum; Wilds as they call it in the common tongue.

Wardruna comes across a trail: fresh but not of woodland creature and without actually realizing it he adjusts his course until his paws carry him to her. She is tall and slender, moreso than the northerner would guess was natural for her: her pelage dappled in browns, reds and blacks though it is lackluster and missing tufts at her hips. His gaze lingers there for a moment longer before it slides back up to what little he can make out from her side profile and he lets out a low chuff to announce his presence in case she has yet to notice him as he stalks lurks a good bit away from behind.