Rising Sun Valley Sunday Morning

He had bypassed the river when he came to it; more interested in the way the water fell from the mountainside than the pack which he so clearly scented. It took some doing, but eventually Anselm made his way across - there were a few close calls as he stumbled along the moss-thick stones further upstream, but a narrowing of the river gave him what he wanted. Night fell and he kept on wandering, until the sight of a distant forest made him raise his brows and change direction.

Anselm found himself in a field, exposed for the world to see, when he spotted her. The pale creature was facing away from him, and initially he thought avoidance would be a good idea. But he was also tired, and... Knowing how poorly he had treated his last run-in, Anselm decided he would do better this time around. As he moseyed through the meadow, the stranger's path headed towards a rise in the earth; back towards the southwestern mountains. He paused, thinking that perhaps he had intruded upon some important task - maybe she was a pack wolf? - and was left standing amid the snow with a look of concern upon his tired face.