Hopeful Hunt

The timberwolf crept quietly through the quiet forest. The chirrup of birds and unsettling hum of insects had fallen somewhat quiet; presumably, the hosts of those noises had ventured Southward not all too long ago. Rendel shook out her fur a bit more, suddenly a bit thankful for her thick coat to ward off the chill of late autumn. The Northern fall-time held the most chill in it, she was sure, grateful to be meandering through the maze of tree trunks rather than navigating snow-encrusted boulders even farther north. 

This trip to the forest wasn't for leisure, though; nor was it a quick slip into the underbrush for herbal remedies. The shewolf wanted more out of this--a meal. An actual meal. The herbs weren't going to grow a feast for Ren forever, as the chill against her fur had reminded her, and those cove fish are slim pickings at best and piles of bone at worst. The occasional catch of a mouse was a boon, but as anyone would guess, mice are clearly not enough. No, she wanted something bigger.

'What dwells around here to begin with?'  thought the wolf to herself, 'Pheasant? Rabbit? ...Squirrel?'  She chastised herself for her lack of information on the subject. Today, though, surely, she'd learn--provided she could catch something suitable.

The willowy wolf's stomach growled as she examined the canopy.