Even in the tight grip of autumn, the undergrowth in is dense. Leera picks her way across the forest floor slowly, paws touching down to the soft earth gently so as to coneal her presence. So far, the east has been pleasant. She respects the expanse of grey mountains that loom in the distance, the cliffs, the sprawling forests... and now, this place.
The femme finds herself drawn to the constant, almost lyrical rush of water this area provides. She steps along the wet rock, touching her nose to the crystal-clear water that pools at the feet of the falls, mulling about what kind of wolves would make their home here. In terms of livability, there isn't much this place is missing. There is fresh water, the cover of dense canopies, and an abundance of prey-life. She can only imagine what the falls were like during summertime.
Deciding to rest here a while, Leera finds a dry spot near one of the falls and settles down. She drops her narrow hips and her body follows, and she gives the area a final scan before resting her chin on her paws. It's true that she's growing tired of being alone -- she'd probably strike up a conversation with a squirrel at this point.
Leera is a mature character.
Force/violence is permitted within reason.
Plot with us here!
