Jade Fern Grove Sitting flat on your bum doesn't buy any bread.

Somehow, miraculously Esma's little ordeal with disappearing from Riverclan and spending a week or so miserably wandering around the wilds had ended well. One day she had caught the faint whiff of her mom's scent and had followed it all the way back the familiar corners. There - like all prodigal daughters - she had felt over-joyed to see everything as she had left it. She had embraced the familiarity and even engaged in socialization with other pack wolves. Few days later the novelty had worn off and she was back to her content introverted self. 

However, the distressing experience had given the girl more courage to venture outside Riverclan's territory. Her reasoning to do so was very pragmatic - it was harder to get lost, if you knew the area well. So, while she still spent most of her days in the Lost Creek Hollow, either keeping to herself or being useful to her mom, she would venture outside to map the territories. Time from time she would see other wolves in the distance, but - lucky for her - none ever came close.

Today, however, she had been drawn by the sound of hunt and smell of fresh blood. She spotted a sand-colored man walking carrying a woodchuck. Curious - she quietly followed him, staying at a distance paralell to him, watching with interest.