Golden Glade On the road again.

The sharp crack of the neck of the hare disturbed the silence. With winter about and prey scarce, every catch was all the more important. A growing pack needed to ensure survival in the toughest season and their cache needed to grow before a winter storm set in. So when she could, she would hunt. Her obsidian pelt seemed so out of place of the snowy landscape but she had begun to find the meaning of peace.

Markers placed, a new addition to the cache, what else is on my to do list,she thought to herself as she slunk through the shadows. But she couldn't answer the question as she caught the scent of another.

I am not alone.

Retreating to the shadows, her kill still hanging in her mouth she begun to investigate where the foreign scent came from until she stopped in her tracks, seeing the red coat against a canvas of white.