Deepwood Weald The way of the tramp

Amaguq pressed further West, striding into the unknown. After avoiding some stinky sulphuric springs, the white wolf dived into the depths of Neverwinter Forest. That lush place reminded him of the taiga during summer: the air was sweet and filled with the screams of the deers, echoing from every direction.
The white wolf strayed around the pinewoods for days, scavenging what he could and taking advantage of the bushes heavy with berries to complement his diet. Since ravens weren't as abundant in those woods, Amaguq had to observe other creatures' behavior to take some advantage in his scavenging quests. For instance, weasels typically hunt and store their prey for later consumption. When he found that out, he began to keep an eye out for those slender, hyperactive carnivores. Whenever he managed to discover the location of a weasel's den, all he had to do was to wait for it to go hunt again and then raid its pantry.
And the forest had more to taught him: bullsnakes are tasty (lizards, too); spiders are fucking scary; eat the honey, not the bees; never approach a skunk; black bears were the only ones he found tolerable. It might have been a very didactic staying, but the wolf soon felt like leaving: that place had an uncanny resemblance with Snowforest Taiga, but it was warmer, thus making the pine scent even more pungent. The good news was that he managed to regain some of his lost weight, which was a good sign.

Eventually, Amagug got out into the Honeyed Pasture, where the tall grass hid pheasants and other fat birds, notorious for their ridiculous flight. Maybe because of that, the birds tend to lay low when approached. Which was even more stupid, as a wolf hunts primarily by scent. But he had to admit those birds portrayed the funniest hunts he ever had:
The first step was to find the spot where the bird lies hidden: a fool's play for a wolf's nose; then, the approach, step by step; the wolf would then lunge towards the bird: the feathered creature would flap its wings frenetically to get off the ground; but with some quick reflexes and a good jump, Amaguq could catch them as they take off. The meat was good, too: the only inconvenience was the number of feathers he has to tear out before he could take a mouthful of pheasant breast. And, of course, where there are birds, there are eggs: another of Nature's delicacies!

The wolf spent some time in those fields, where he sharpened his pheasant hunting skills. It was a good place to stay, but Amaguq's spirit was still unbound. His journey kept on, taking him to Deepwood Weald.
It was a forest of ancient trees: their canopy stood so high that Amaguq couldn't visualize it. As far as his eye could see, the trees were nothing but gigantic, endless trunks, stretching towards the skies.
Amaguq felt safe in the weald's embrace. It was shadowy and secluded; the light beamed from the breaches in the canopy, forming blazes of light across thick underbrush. After all that traveling, it seemed the ideal place to rest his worn-out paws. 
Amaguq didn't take long to realize he was going to be stuck in there for a while: the huge territory had messed up with his sense of direction, but he didn't care: after all, he walks the way of a tramp - always seeking, never finding.