Lone Star Mountain Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it

As she chose to remain in the heights of the mountains, Sibyl found herself venturing along in search of herbs which would only grow at such a height, and found several that she thought might be of use. She carried them with her with practiced care, so loosely draped through her mouth that they bounced with every step she took. Knowing better than to trust that she might safely bear the herbs all the way to a small cave she'd been stashing supplies in, she sought out a water supply so that she might at least rinse her mouth, and find a drink along the way. 

She would find, though, she was not alone- and saw in the distance a wolf with the still, thick-boned, knobbly legs of a wolf not yet a year old- far from it, in fact. A dark creature, her coat dusted with rusty hues, and her eyes- which Sibyl could not see- transfixed by the water's rippling surface. She approached with the calm, demure step of a harmless caretaker.