The tall grass had started to turn yellow with the nearing cold weather. It was a fairly cool day as it was with little to no breeze. Azalea moved silently through the grass that towered above her. Ears quivered, moving to take in every noise. She had her mind set on a deer though it would be a feat on her own. At thirty one to the shoulder, Azalea seemed to be the only one in her family to draw the short stick. She blamed her mother.
Being a small wolf was certainly not easy. For her mother, perhaps. To live a simple and quiet life was just not in her nature and honestly Azalea had no idea how her mother could be content with such a life. A life of servitude.
Azalea stopped moving. She hadn't heard anything, there was no prey here, so she sat down, loosening up her slightly tensed body. Amber eyes cast around. She was on the game trail, thin and hard to trace with your eyes. With a sigh Azalea sat back on her haunches, completely relaxing.
