Deepwood Weald Beauty in the Fog

Latte was lost.  Not that she really knew her way around any of the woods in Teekon Wilds, but this one was particularly confusing.  It was beautiful, sure, but beautiful in an eerie, repetitive kind of way that made everything look the same beneath the fog.  After a couple hours of what seemed like walking around in circles, Latte flopped onto a soft patch of ferns, exhausted and hungry.  It seemed harder to hunt here, and all she'd had to eat all day was a couple bones she'd found with a few bits of meat still attached to them.  It didn't help that her right hind leg had a long bloody scratch on it from falling into stream that she could have sworn she'd passed at least three times.

Latte must have drifted off because the next moment, she heard rustling in the undergrowth and... singing?  The dog opened her eyes and sat up, wincing as she forgot not to put weight on her leg. "W-who's th-there?"  She tried to call, though it came out as more of a wobbly squeak.  Her usual wariness of wolves was multiplied by ten in the spooky forest.