Sleepy Fox Hollow To remind them

She had crossed through the open, still plane known as Meadowlark Prarie to the locals. The birds that gave it its name had been absent upon her arrival, having migrated to somewhere warmer than the exposed fields. 

The dark tangle of trees she had approached had carried the scent of pack on the wind and she had chosen to go around it - giving the residents of Blackfeather Woods a wide berth. The warlock had no intention of approaching a pack, there was nothing for her amongst their ranks. 

From there she had cut across what was known as Otter Creek, partially frozen in the cold months, and had been lucky enough to feast on a young otter that had frozen some time in the night. 

With the meal to replenish her energy, Lorelei turned to the mountains. She knew nothing of these lands and had chosen east at random. If it should pass that she found nothing worth staying for, she would turn west once more. As it was, the mountains called to her - demanding that she conquer their heights. 

The path was steep, rocky. Her bones grew weary and as evening bled into night - Lorelei stopped amidst a ghost town of a clearing. The only sound to greet her was the scrape of bare branches in the wind, a forlorn sound, and the calls of a vixen somewhere in the distance.