Otatso Wetlands give me segregation

Having similarly taken shelter within the miry wetland, a stark lupine figure could be seen trudging steadily through the tree-thick bog; Her snowblind coat a beacon in the gloaming. She was strong and tall enough that her gait went mostly unhindered by the gummy muck, but every now and again she would take a surprise dip into some invisible pothole, periodically refreshing the large, muddy bib across her chest.  

Yet, even in these missteps, her gaze did not appear to survey or wander. She moved in a straight line, keeping her nose aloft like a periscope, and seemed to be closing in on a headway. With the wind in her favor, she was following the scent of carrion drowned in the muskeg — otherwise known as a simple luxury for solitary wolves. Her lone highness proceeded with the hungry mien of a wolf far less well-fed than she, even though...

No one would exactly call Paladin “skinny.”

She observed another wolf in her general vicinity, noting his pelt of ashen coal and the sturdy-looking stature he toted, but provided him with little more than a passing glance as she went. The pale gorgon would be no bother to him, as long as he was none to her.