Spring was finally here and yet the young girl could not feel it's warmth. It just seemed like it couldn't defrost the ice placed around her. No amount of sun and warmth breeze bring like back to the range could touch her. In a way she didn't want it to, didn't want to be save. Yet she craved to warmth and protection. Perhaps it was the warmth of another she needed. But that was never going to happen. She barely knew anyone here in this pack, and there was no way she was going to seek others out. It just wasn't her style, her comfort zone. She liked being alone, not crowded with faces she didn't know, a million questions being asked, the silence disturbed with so many voices. No she enjoyed the peace and quite the earth could offer her.
Paws carried her from the woods to the lake like always. It was a path she made everyday, all day long. She didn't have much else to do, so she would just wonder back and forth from 3 yards from the boarder closest to the woods and down to the lake and back again. She didn't even have a den yet and slept out in the open. She didn't mind too much, having been used to it since she had lost her family and always on the run.
The mid-day sun glared down at her through the trees, making her squint her pale green orbs. Maybe today she would hunt. Since she hadn't eaten since two days ago. It wasn't that she couldn't hunt, but was used to the pains of hunger to the point of actually never noticing anymore. Head lifted with nose to the air. She knew she could hunt a tiny or weak deer, small game and even birds. This close to the lake she had a hunch she would find at least a heron. Slowly her body would move silently alone the shore, pressed close to the ground. In no time she spotted a tall blue gray heron. Eyes scanned the area to make sure nothing would disturb her. She knew stalking and leaping for the kill wouldn't work. No, this required speed and good legs. She positioned her body before suddenly dashing forwards. Her slender legs carried her swiftly to the bird. But already it was flapping open it's wings in fright, taking to the air. With a growl she launched not forwards but straight up into the air. Jaws opened till she felt the body of the bird in her grasp. Gravity brought both back down to earth. As soon as her paws it the ground she gave a killing bite to the heron's neck.
Silently she sent her thanks to mother earth and the bird's spirit. A shake of her fur and she settled down to begin the long process of plucking feathers off the bird. She didn't mind having to wait to eat. Actually she took time to admire her catch. It was a fine one, and the thought of the hunt and setting to work pulling feathers allowed her a small escape from depression.
