Elder's den

Atreill slowly approched the large, empty with caution. It was a strange place, it smelled of musky dust and old wolf smell, but still nothing lived here. Most of the elders had not surived the winter, for they had been too weak to fight the famine and not freeze. Atreill didn't reslly have a den, in the begining she had stayed with her new friends in the pup den so that they could be tended to when their mothers were out. But when winter came and the famine struck, she had gone on long hunts to find the deer herds who had gone to low lands, sleeping in bager and fox setts to stop herself from getting caught out in a blizzard. Maybe that was why she never got the famine, for she was away most of the time hunting. But now she simply stayed with old habbits and slept where ever she could, in the meadow, in the forest, in random caves she finds in the mountain. Now that the pack was getting to their feet again, she needed to stay close, just incase something happened that the warriors could not do alone.

The prospect of another pack  coming here was a lickly story, the pack was weak and held a lot of land, which could be so easly stolen from them if a larger pack came. Atreill knew she would be no help if that happened, not even if she wanted to. The large Meckizan valley wolf lay on her stomach near the entrance, for she feared that the old spirits of the elder wolves might still be here.