Wapun Meadow amappo

pretty enough hills, though they bored ancelin more quickly than he was expecting. what intrigued him was how quickly athalia took point and traipsed off through the drifts. because he was learning to be a hands-off sort of parenting style dad, ancelin watched the girl for a moment and then followed, making a game of following in her tracks.
he said nothing, only observed her body language and the fragrances she might take from the wind and the land. he himself kept a running tally of all the things he overheard, saw, smelled, or touched; the cry of a crow calling others to eat, the upright, still ears of a hare he only just glimpsed against the snow, the reek of fox urine pointing the way toward carrion, the hum of a vole's breath as the wolves passed over the earth above its head.
the land was wild. ancelin was wild. he felt it stirring in his blood.