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Her son Anatole is with her. Hope that's okay. 
Having previously traveled from the far reaches of the Canadian wilderness, Aurèle had come across roads before. They had been strange at first, but she had grown to use them in her time. It cut down the need to stalk through overgrowth. Experience had taught her that often times the easiest way was the best. If she could make her life easier then she would not only survive, but thrive. This was how she had managed for four years, and living in AniWaya had not changed this. She did not need to worry about food, but she always hunted for herself, and always made her son do the same. He was not allowed to become complacent.
The two were making their way down the highway. Anatole had grown in his time within the tribe and was taller than his mother. He had filled out and his build was certainly a combination of his much larger father and the arctic blood his mother had given him. This pleased Aurèle. Though still young and still brash, her son was perfect in her eyes. Though usually bored with her tasks, he was excited about this new place—where they had lived had no roads, and the highway was different. Though he was quite calm in his walk, she was able to see the excitement in his face.
They had not gotten far from AniWaya when they had caught the scent. It was a male wolf from the tribe, one neither of them recognized. Deciding to follow it, Anatole led his mother along the road, which she willingly allowed. This was an essential part of his learning. If he could ignore the strange new exciting things around him and find his prey, he would be moving along as a hunter.
So when he came to a sudden halt, dark body still, the woman was even further pleased to see he had found the culprit. A male wolf was putting something around his neck and admiring it. Without touching her son, Aurèle passed him and approached. “Find some treasure?” She asked.