Swiftcurrent Creek in too deep

The scent of something dead drifted from afar, mingling with the fragrant notes of an abundantly floral spring, and lured her through the valley. She moved like a sleepy little bear — and as a bear, sure, she'd be considered pretty small; but Juria was a heavy-weight, made to look even thicker because of her dense brown coat.

She moved across a meadow for a few hours, hunting for something to eat, when she came across that scent and veered after it — but by the time she pinpointed its origin, she'd crossed through a thicket or two of mixed birch stands. The ground became rocky, with immense boulders scattering towards a descending route that tasted crisp; in her experience Juria knew that meant water, but it wasn't the only scent she found. The woman was an experienced tracker and could discern the musk of wolf scattered about the place. Whatever food she'd thought she'd found, it wasn't like an open buffet.

The woman doubled back in haste, pulling her hefty self up the incline and away from the river, crossing back to the neutral ground with a few heavy huffs. The last thing she wanted to do was piss off a pack of wolves.