Kintla Flatlands Savage garden

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With the coming of winter, I couldn't wait for Tartok to settle into their new homeland. I needed to find the right place to set up shop, able to observe the land, skies, and seas as the earth tilted farther away from the Sun and the magnetic storm, known as the borealis, danced across the skies.

The forests of Blackfeather were far gone from my behind my shoulders as I trekked across the Kinta in a northwesterly direction, merely apt to enjoy the solitary journey. The grass was fully yellow now as autumn descended in full force, and the current temperatures in the base of the valley reached no higher than seventy degrees. With cooler air came more activity in wolves, whose winter coats were coming in strong. My own was plush and downy underneath short summer guard hairs. On hot days it was unbearable and I would lay for the most of the day under shade or near water, panting, but it seemed the days were finally giving up their sun in turn for coming snow.

The slopes turned more west, sliding down into the body of water known as Whitefish River. I would have to cross it in order to reach the coastal forests that held the small team holed up in a deep forested wash. It had been quiet at the camp, but I hoped it would only increase with the soft autumn winds and stir the Tartok wolves. Perhaps at the beginning of winter we could stake out some land and I could attend to my duties. As I padded down the hill towards the river, I idly consulted the idea that I might share a cave, or resources, with the older healer Ukiuk. His joints would be experience some strain with the damp and cold; it would be someone's duty to make sure he was comfortable enough to be with the pack.
I glanced upwards suddenly, my hair flattening along my shoulders, as my breath took in the smell of another wolf. Along the sandbank of the water a black creature stood with his mouth parted towards the lapping aqua. In his mouth rested some sort of vegetable, one, as I stepped warily closer, I could discern as a carrot. And judging by the pale hue, not quite ripe. I couldn't help but allow the twitching of my lips to turn into a small smile.
I don't think those were ready yet.