Whitebark Stream The reparation of my heart

Large paw-prints dug into the forest floor. A man who carried much mass made his way through. He’d never been here before, but the area felt familiar. Crimson stained the dead grass beneath him. 'Someone hunted here. A small critter, perhaps.' His neck craned downwards to get a better look.

Black fur intertwined the red. A cindered wolf walked these same tracks. It made him wonder if he’d run into her on his way. 

Oren had never been one for aggression, but by the messiness left behind. This wolf was hungry. Hunger was never the welcomer of kindness.

Be wary.

His muzzle raised up towards the trees. A way to catch a better scent. Somewhat fresh, not too long ago. Something he might have to worry about. He sighed exasperatedly. Move forward. Whatever lies ahead is laters issue. A philosophy he’d learned from a friend.