Silver Moraine I wonder about the worlds inside us all

A lone, wooly figure picked its way along the bottom of the moraine, pink tongue lolling in an exhausted pant. Skraeling's coat had already begun to thin for the warmer months, but even with a fresh layer of snow on the ground, the day had been hot and miserable. She was sure that if she stopped for a rest her body would cool down at once - the day was overcast, after all, and she was not a machine - but her sojourn from her birthplace had stopped being fun several days prior, and she was anxious to find herself a pack to stay with.

There seemed to be a large one on either side of her. She wasn't sure if she was in their territory or not, but it seemed like a good idea to keep moving until she could smell them no longer. As much as she wanted to join a pack right away, she was worried about her reception, and unsure how to go about joining in the first place.

For now, she simply soldiered on, trotting at a fast clip toward the mountains.