Frostfire Ridge The things we love destroy us every time.

Ocra makes sure not to spend any more time near the marsh, new friend or not, and so she continues to meander her way through with no particular destination. Most of the lands she tends to cross are empty and it is miles and miles before the next pack. She hasn’t noted one in days but she doesn’t actively search for one, as she probably should. Maybe she should turn around and turn to the last place that had taken her in. Maybe a simple explanation is all she needs to turn back and go. They’d understand the new emptiness she’s felt, give her another chance?
 
Maybe.
 
She tightens her jaw as she moves along the ridge. The night has come upon them and the degrees slowly drop, but when her feet feel the warmth develop beneath her paws, she finds comfort. It makes up for the chill in her toes she hasn’t been able to sooth for a long time. She’s never been very fond of the colder months but this gives her a little reprieve.
 
The scent of another catches her attention and she turns to find the best direction it’s coming from. The ever greens offer her a little camouflage but her scent carries on the wind and she will not go unnoticed for long. Ocra chuffs quietly, though there is no warning or threaten beneath the tone. She is here and offers nothing, though she does not try to turn her away. If she is to be left alone, then she is, but she will not get herself into any more trouble if she can help it.

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