Otter Creek scouting the famine

She moved gracefully through the flatlands, surveying the surrounding territories and picking them apart for information. It seemed that the famine was slowing spreading through this area as well, though it perhaps was not as desperate as it was in the typically hunting grounds of the Bloodstones. "Promising," she mused aloud to the crow that flew near her shoulder, her voice soft and commanding in the same breath. The bird cackled in response, and she rolled her eyes.

Ra'Lae could not see or smell the ungulates, but they had left their mark upon the land nonetheless. A broken branch with a tuft of fur here; weeks-old droppings there. Perhaps—when she was particularly lucky—a stale hoofbeat in the hardening ground. This was the direction they had moved in, at least, and it was a start. Still, it was not yet time to send for the clan... not until she had solid proof that the migration would be worth it. It was true they were desperate, but they were not yet that desperate. Coyotes, after all, are particularly lazy creatures.

Quo—ark, the crow shrieked at her. Ra'Lae glanced upwards, annoyed, "I didn't realize you tired so quickly. I mean, you could ride along my back, for tooth's sake." It shrieked again in its broken, raspy way, and glared murderously before it dove with purpose at her head. "Alright, alright, you damn bird," she yipped, darting to narrowly avoid being pecked.

Her prance to escape had lead the coyote to a small creek, shallow but not yet frozen. "We can rest here, but not for long."