Iris
The snow crunches beneath my horse’s hooves as we make our way through the forest. The temperature has dropped significantly since this morning, and I’m grateful for the thick wool coat and Augustine’s mittens that I grabbed before heading out. Even with them, my cheeks and nose are stinging from the cold.
With far more confidence than the last time we visited the ranch, I guide my horse along the familiar trail toward the ridge where I first saw the she-wolf months ago.
It feels like a lifetime has passed since that day. So much has changed since then, and yet the forest looks exactly the same. I hope the wolf is the same, too.
I don’t know what I expect to find out here, though. The chances of actually seeing the same wolf again are slim to none. Wolves are notoriou
