Grit That Comes From Rock strides across the land, leaving a trail of dark tracks behind her as her warm pawpads melt the thin layer of snow over the rocks. Her step is careful but sure on the slippery frost. Her ears twitch at the sound of a mouse rocketing from beneath one stone to another.
She breaths in the scent of The Pack of Icy Waters. The familar scent comforts her, with no strange smells floating on the wind. Her claws scratch and send down a shower of frozen grit as she takes a daring leap onto another large rock.