Morning fell upon the land and the great Sun arose above the horizon to gaze upon the land that locked a powerful secret in the world. The land in which four packs dwelled in had become the battle ground of a desperate war for the survival of their packs. Famine had struck one of the packs, and a drought which tormented another pack threatened their own. Landslides earlier in the year had prevented the Herla from venturing into the Druid pack valley, but there was still plenty of Herla in the secluded valley, North of the pack lands of the Golden Mist. The young pine forest which covered the valley bottom surrounded a ferocious river which pounded down the valley with such power and force that no creature could withstand it. It was a relatively small river, and vanished into the depths of the tangled forest, never followed by a living soul. As you got higher up in the steep valley, the trees changed from pines to birches and willows, smaller and wider apart. Then, at the near top, were alpine meadows swaying gently in the breeze. It was cooler and more windy up here, away from the protection of the trees. Then, at the very top, was snow and ice, which never thawed all Summer, but stayed there, and was a barren wasteland for any unfortunate animal.
A lone white figure could be seen gallivanting across the open meadows, her tail straight, her eyes focused, her paws daintily touching the hard ground. Her fur stuck up in clumps, for she had been caught out in a rain shower, and she slowed her pace as she neared the edge of a cliff. She was panting heavily, but managed to look dauntingly over the edge and saw the tops of the trees and a little lake at the bottom of the mighty waterfall, which was to her right. The waterfall thundered down the side with an unimaginable force, and then fell into a deep, dark pool of water, which led off the thunder down the valley, hence the source of the valley's river. The female gazed at the waterfall, hypnotised by it's continuing rhythm. She gently closed her ice coloured orbs and listened to the music of the water. She found her paws moving her forwards, and quickly open her eyes and veered to the left, away from the water. She padded quietly and without a whisper of sound through the sweeping meadow, gazing up at the higher peaks covered in glistening snow. The sun's light reflected upon it, blinding her eyes so that she had to look away. Her paws were dirty, so she decided to wash them in a small, trickling stream nearby.
When she got there, she noticed a strange object in the stream. Curiously, she examined it and realised it was a sun bleached rabbit bone, and it looked pretty old. She shifted it up onto the grass with her paws, then washed her muddied paws in the water, splashing about and giggling. Her belly was full from hunting Herla in the forest, and she had taken the time away from her packlands to explore this valley more. She had always been fascinated by it as a young cub, but her mother had told her to be careful and not go there unless you are desperate. She sighed wearily and curled up by a small, moss covered rock, and gently dozed off, drugged by the heat of the sun. Her head lolled onto her front paws, and in her dream she thought of the male wolf whom she loved with all her heart, and wished that he could be here. A small, black creature landed nearby, and pecked at the ground with his stunning yellow beak. His beady eyes blinked as he pulled up a juicy, plump worm and gobbled it whole. He flapped his wings and hopped over to the wolf, whom had awaken and had been watching him. Her eyes blinked groggily, then fell asleep as soon as the bird perched onto her back.