Honeyed Pasture king forever, ceasing never

It was there on the wind again - the scent of someone familiar, someone she was sure she knew. There was no placing a name to the scent, or even recalling what time in her life she'd met the wolf in, but she knew they were around. Even if the scent was one that flew on the wind instead of convenient spores on the ground. This time, she got as far as a wide, open plain before she admitted she'd lost the trail long ago. If there had even been one to begin with.

It was late, though. Too late to turn back. She'd come this far, after all, so why not reacquaint herself with the landscape? It'd been a long time since she'd been in these parts; over a year, she thought, since that wild male had chased her through that distant sprawl of forest. Well, she was a big girl, now, and not planning to run if someone tried to give chase. The very thought put her into a sour mood, yet at the same time, she found herself craving company - an unsual thing for the normally very solitary woman.

She picked her way through the snowy grass, searching for the scent of a rabbit or vole to tide her over until she returned to the coast, where she found it much easier to score a meal.