Blackfoot Forest Iktsuarpok

He left the valley when it was still dark, his breath pulled from him in thin veins of mist that dissipated within moments; it was too cold to sleep comfortably, and he had not managed to find anything to eat during his last attempt, leaving him empty and wanting. The desire to see his family was too strong now: a sense that he was missing something which spanned beyond his home-sickness or need for his family, rooted in his growing desperation. 

The darkness gradually greyed as it lifted, with the sky streaking in shades of muted gold at first. He watched the rising sun until the vagaries of early warmth touched upon his coat, and then picked up speed, marching due west of the valley which had been his home the past month. He knew the shape of the mountains - Mesa could probably find his way home if he could get a little closer, he thought. Maybe he would find a game trail replete with wolf-scent and follow that? His plans were as vague as the mist.

Eventually the sun was high in the sky and he had to duck away from the light, feeling the sting in his eyes. He crept to where the trees loomed upon a hillside and wove between the gaps there for a bit. The shadows of the forest were intensely cold compared to the patches of light he crossed; feeling more defeated than anything, he paused along the edge of the Blackfoot Forest for a rest. A part of Mesa wished for the comfort of the shadows - but he could not tolerate the chill there, the hopelessness beneath it - and so he basked in the sun and soon felt the warmth spreading across his every inch.