It was winter, the season of scarcity. Rusted Core had been having a hard time, he was young and this was his first year on his own. He had been headstrong and cocky so sure that he didn't need the help or guidance of anyone. So he had gone off. It was spring then, and at first things were easy there was plenty of game, he could easily find and eat his fill every day. Then the days got hotter and summer came, the easy foals and kits had grown amd learned. They were constantly out maneuvering him in this unfamiliar territory. He would manage to corner one now and again but his body was becoming lean.
Then winter, the forest grew silent. The trees shed their leaves amd he began to starve. He was desperate now fur thinning eyes sunken. He thought if he had traveled to a new land the game there would be better. However being in an unfamiliar hunting ground lead only to less amd less meals as what little game he could find knew the land better than he.
His head shot up his ears forward, there was a smell on the wind. In his desperation to eat he began to track it. He knew his fur stood out against the slowly falling snow. Maybe he would get lucky.
