Sun Mote Copse i'd rather chase the Sun than wait for it.

*waves shyly*

The evening sun warmed up Wren's back as her aimless wandering had taken her from flooded plains into the cover of trees, pink-hued light dancing between their leaves and painting her fur golden. Tired, thirsty, and growing colder was she, still trying to rid herself of the scent of recent acquaintances that clung to her. It posed vulnerability while traveling through unclaimed lands, at least in her eyes. It told stories of where she had been. 
It was then that her lonesomeness had faded, the sound of snapping twigs hitting her ears and unfamilliar scent filling her nose. She did not speak yet, only watched with careful eyes for the shadow of whoever the scent belonged to.