Lake Rodney Won't you wait for a minute

Here in these cascading foothills there was no game to be found. The wolf recognized that now. He sought to quit them as soon as was convenient, but found his way blocked in various directions. South: the scent of wolves. East: the same, wafting on a breeze from across the expansive lake whose other shore he could not see. North: the same, but more faint than those other signatures. He paused a moment on the edge of Lake Rodney, nose tilted into the breeze and lips parted slightly as he drank in the smells.

North was his best bet. Too many wolves in this vicinity for a rogue to find prosperity. He would head that way soon, but was compelled by a twitch in his hide to lower himself into the wet earth of the shoreline and roll first, coating his back in mud and silt.