The Bracken Woods A northern visitor

The weather was kind in her travels and the world calm. But she could hear, still, the echoes of her family's concerns:

“Be alert at all times, be weary of other predators.”

“Yes, papa,” she had promised.

“ÂnnitailiKattagit.”

“Yes, mama, I will be safe,” she had assured.

Throughout the length of her journey, the voices of her parents stayed with her, reminding her that this would not be her end—no, it was a new beginning, if anything. A new chapter in her life, the creation of her own story—something she hoped to someday share with her family, just as her father, and his father before him, had done so many years ago.

“Â...!” she gasped softly, pulled from her memories by the prick of a thorn as it lodged itself between her toes. This was not her first experience dealing with the thorns, their torment having spanned the length of several days now, at least.

Slowing to a stop with her right forepaw raised, she held her breath whilst assessing her surroundings: it was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the smaller wildlife and the sing-song calls of the birds overhead. Tilting her nose upwards, she welcomed the western breeze and its lack of concerning scents; she could smell no others of her kind, nor cats or bears, all of which her father had warned her to be cautious of. Content with her findings, or the lack thereof, the young female settled back on her rump and pulled her paw towards her mouth, using her incisors to search for the end of the thorn. Once her grip was secured, she pulled gently on it, careful not to break it before the whole of the thorn was extracted. She'd become something of an expert when it came to thorn removal, trapped in the forest by her father's directions:

“Keep south from here until you enter a forest of tangled tree limbs and an unkind floor,” he had told her. “You will travel through there for what feels like a lifetime, until the treeline finally gives way enough that you can see valleys and a snow-capped mountain.”

Shaking her head whilst the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips, she slowly lowered her paw once more, testing it against the ground to confirm no pieces of thorn remained. “I hope this is the place he described...” she muttered, each day that passed without a clear end of the forest trying to convince her otherwise. Nevertheless, she continued southbound, determined to explore these lands that her father once called home.