The Sentinels her ghost in the fog

It had been some weeks since she'd last seen her family, and the initial panic had long since ebbed down to a more subtle sense of anxiety and foreboding.  She felt like a fish out of water, vulnerable as though a target were painted on her back.  Such was the predicament of a wolf separated from its pack, especially in the middle of winter, and Raven was not unaware of her grave circumstances.  She needed to find her family soon, or else she'd likely end up dead.  She wasn't the worst hunter in the world, but neither was she the best either.  She was, after all, only a yearling.    

There had been several times that she had found herself nearing the outer fringes of other packs' lands, and each time she had been hasty in her efforts to distance herself from them.  She had no desire to become someone else's lunch.  She just wanted to get back home again.  But as the weeks wore on, and she grew hungrier and more desperate, the thought lingered on her mind:  what if she did ask them to allow her to join them?  At least until she got her bearings, learned more about the lands she was in, and managed to figure out the way home.  Nobody had to know it was only temporary...right?

These thoughts ran through her mind as she stood, staring with brows furrowed, at a lovely expanse of tall, stately evergreens whose secretive depths stretched for miles over rolling hills and windswept coastline.  Her nose told her there were wolves here, though she was cautious to keep enough distance so that their scents were but faint traces upon the wind.  A debate raged inside of her.  Would they kill her?  Chase her away?  If there had to be a negative outcome, she hoped it was the latter.  A soft whine escaped her lips as she fidgeted, unable to summon the courage to lift her muzzle and send up a howl for those who called this forest home.