Wapun Meadow Still getting old, space is still getting cold, space is

Time passed, and with the valley offering unyielding protection, Ameline began to feel less and less as though she could awaken some day to find herself cornered. She took small trips out into the plains and meadows outside of the gorge, keen to detail the scents of other wolves in the area and hunt food for the two children she and Ancelin had taken into their care. 

The meadow was often a fruitful place to hunt for rabbits, though when she scanned the broad, frost-laden expanse of honeyed grasses, she saw little movement. She sniffed the cool air, her breath lingering in soft puffs before dissipating. She could almost taste the scent of blood, and flicked her tongue over her lips and nose to moisten them. Someone had made a kill in the area, possible one of the wolves of Kvarsheim.

She didn't intend to seek out the hunter, but as she began to cut through the meadow, a patch of something bright in the distance caught her attention. When she squinted, she could see that the figure wasn't white at all, but grey and furthermore, canine. Her eyes could pick out the contrast of blood even over the distance between them. The wolf had made a kill, and now devoured the meal. 

Ameline wasn't interested in picking scraps off a stranger. She continued to meander through the meadow, head low, as she searched the area for more scents.