Higher Ground
#3
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"Always something going on with this cursed place."

Shylome couldn't help but mutter to herself as she marched back "home". The "monsoon" caught her out as she attempted to familiarize herself with the land. Of utmost importance were landmarks and prey species in this pack's territory. Vital knowledge.

But her explorations had left her lost and stranded for some time, and only now had the sudden, black clouds stopped their tantrum long enough for her to figure out her way back.

The storm followed in her wake, however, and she moved her muddy legs a little bit faster, responsively seeking to outpace the growling clouds behind her.

Now she knew to follow her nose, and she knew the scent of the scruffly wolf that had first greeted her and the autumn-haired alpha who had welcomed her in, but she hadn't actually tarried in the pack home prior to her explorations. The smell of something strange and wonderful wafted into her nose and drew out a confused laugh.

A massive congregation of prey.

Perhaps the malice and merits of the land were separated as oil and water, concentrated in their own spheres, and perhaps she had come upon Canada's blessing. Herds of animals were not uncommon in Africa. There were valleys where ungulates grazed in crowds larger than the eyes could take in at once, but this buffet appeared strangely docile. Dull horns and slow movements.

Thus, she made her way cheerfully towards the herd animals in a quiet, lazy gallop. She would greet her wolf family, of course, but only after a brief snack. She hadn't managed to eat much on her excursion, and she didn't think she'd have much to eat for awhile once the storm rolled in.

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