Deepwood Weald Beneath the dense trees

In the wake of the ominous trembling and groaning which had seemingly come from the very belly of the earth, rising to shake the craggy, mountains, it seemed that their most reliable forms of food had ventured off in search of safer pastures. Normally, they had wintering grounds where they would ascend to higher altitudes to escape the hunger of the predators who lurked in the plains and forests, but it seemed now that even the most remote areas of the mountains were no longer dappled by the grazing herbivores that often sought refuge where the air was clear but thin. Niamh felt dismayed; the deer and elk had fled their normal wintering grounds, and she had yet to find their path and track them down again. Regardless, it seemed as though they possibly had ventured further than it would be practical for the pack to journey, hunt, and then return to the copse. It felt quite likely that they might have to migrate as well, follow the path of their much needed food source and winter nearby so that they didn't starve as well. 

She had begun to roam a bit further from the pack than she usually did, and cut her way north along the winding river that murmured quietly at the mountain range's feet. Her old haunt- the grouse thicket- was quiet as well, and Niamh felt dismayed to find that it was no longer a hidden gem for hunting. The brambles and brush were now bristly and brown, having shed their fiery autumn leaves, and left nothing behind but a prickly labyrinth which held no prize at the end. She abandoned the area, making a note to alert the others that yet another prime hunting ground had become as barren as the leafless branches on the quaking aspen that lined the river. She pushed on, heading further North. 

She slipped into the misty forest, her eyes adjusting easily to her dim surroundings as she made her way in search of any telltale signs that perhaps the forest would be a viable place to spend the winter. All she needed would be to find some promise that larger herbovires had moved into this area, talking shelter where it was eerily quiet and dark, save for the rattling of the few dying leaves which flitted past her with each soft breeze. It was only when she heard the telltale sounds of a creature dashing through the forest that she paused, and leaned into the breeze to sniff hopefully- only to find herself mildly disappointed once more. There was a wolf nearby, but with the wind at her back, she couldn't tell much more than that. Though the wind worked against her, likely bringing her scent to him long before she would catch sight of him, she didn't mind. Most wolves hated being caught by surprise anyway, and it wasn't as though she was stalking him the way a wolf might stalk their prey. 

Fortune had chosen to shine upon him, though, because when Niamh finally found herself able to pick his form out in the dim light against the leaf-dappled ground, he had mostly finished eating what looked like a hare. Small prey animals weren't as scarce yet as they would be in the winter, so she still felt somewhat optimistic about the forest being a potential hunting ground. Especialy so, now that she saw that hunting was definitely a possibility here. She maintained her distance and chuffed softly to catch his attention. He didn't smell as though he belonged to a pack...Which could also potentially be a good thing. She felt overworked, with patrolling and searching for new hunting grounds...And since he could obviously hunt, he might make for a good recruit. She perked her ears forward, attentive to see if he was receptive to any amount of company- without gazing too longingly at his scraps so as to lead him to believe that she might beg.