Swiftcurrent Creek by jove

I miss you guys. ;-;

The thick smell of urine could be spotted from a half a mile away, if not more. It was there—the point at which Tomahawk first smelled it—that she stood. She expected failure, and yet she persevered. The clock was ticking closer and closer to spring, and she yearned for a companion to whisk her away. She had done the same thing last year with no results, and yet she'd gone right on through summer, fall, and winter seeking far and wide for her companion. He had to be out there somewhere.

Maybe, just maybe, this would be her saving grace. Hope would never die in the coyote wolf, and she would continue her quest until she found what she was looking for. Or until she was released from this prison of a body.