Whitefish River the raven unfolded its wings and turned daylight into dark

she had been faring as well as such a creature could in the winter — although it was difficult to get weight to cling to her bones she was more or less healthful in appearance.

but these fruits did not bear without a certain amount of effort, and that was getting more difficult to muster up with all of the land she'd been covering aimlessly.

two, almost three years old and she'd always done this by herself.  she spoke no english and was temperamentally unsuited for pack life, and though under normal circumstances she did not mind the solitude it was doing a number on her mind this year.

she cut her way through the accumulation of snow, head down and eyes slit as the occasional burst of wind tossed up wisps of blinding flakes.  

something drew her from her travels and her ears swiveled as she raised her head, the loud crunch of snow that meant something was nearby, wolf or prey.  she put her nose to the air and scented and as she drew near, a large pale wolf was frolicking in the snow, taking it into his mouth and chomping wildly.

she stood and watched, confused, until he started digging at the frozen river.

behind him, she came from her clearing and put her nose to the snow — cold! — and halfeartedly spread her paws in front of her, taking the frozen slush into her mouth.

well, it wasn't the worst thing she'd ever put in there, but it was cold and bore little result.  why would he do that?