Golden orbs paid little attention to the foreign landscape he trudged through. There was no need for this wolf to look for landmarks he could familiarize himself with, for he was only passing through. His business was far to the north, and it was only folly that had led him into Nova Scotia. Game was still plentiful, but when he first had laid his eyes on the young and healthy deer, he knew he had to have it. And the mature wolf had brought down his prey after prolonged tracking and a short hunt. He was in his prime years and had lived a life without knowing hunger as he occasionally did now. But the role as a loner was only temporary, for he was expected elsewhere. It was only the long trek that required him to be on his own.

The large, bulky wolf had feasted well on the fallen deer, and was outstretched on the ground a few feet away from his finished meal; merely enjoying the last rays of sun before evening stepped in and made day into night. Everything was well, and tomorrow he would leave and continue to walk towards his lifelong dream. A specific female was waiting, and light earthen hued fur wanted to bristle at the thought of his mate to-be. Honey glazed eyes shut, though a smile played on drowsy lips. Life was good and rich. And he was only three years old, so an entire life still lay in front of him. He knew what happiness felt like, and knew that he had it.