Sweet Pea

Aryn did as she was told, squeezing her eyes shut and counting to 25 under her breath. She was not the type to cheat, so she counted to 27 just in case she'd been too fast in any of her pronunciations. When she was sure her father was ready, she let her eyes slide open. "I'm coming now!" She called out, though she remained where she was for a few more moments to take a few deep breaths.

Feeling more centered the yearling started forward, realizing with confusion that his scent trail seemed to disappear immediately. Almost as if he flew away. Aryn glanced around, but could not see any pawprints in the mud either. The water was shifting slowly, the lilypads she'd watched the frogs upon having been pushed a little further then she'd remembered from shore. He must have went through the water then, and Aryn started back forward again with a careful eye to try and see another clue as she waded into the pond.

It was much more difficult to find where he'd left the water, and Aryn found herself needing to check the banks multiple times before she'd found one with a bit more puddling water then the others. Gouged into the mud were the claws of a wolf, and she put her nose to them to try and identify if they were her father's. The scent was faint, but there. She followed onwards, looking uncertain as she moved deeper through the territory. Her ears perked to listen, her father's scent too strong cross crossed around the pack lands to follow in a straight line. If she could hear him she'd have a chance.