Elisabeth sat on her back porch, little flecks of snow pelting her cheek. It was late winter, and her wolf was to disappear like he always did. She sighed, resting her head on her hand and contemplating over the reason why he did. Maybe there was better prey in a different area. That didn't seem logical, however. Leaving for the promise of an abundance of bunnies was ridiculous; the pack he lurked around with was tiny. They'd be able to survive off of Colorado's quarries. Picking herself up, Elisabeth slid open the back door to her house and stepped inside. The warm air combated with its frigid counterpart until she shut the door, ending the war. Removing her boots, she wormed her way through sealed packages and canvases of all sizes. Her father's profession was painting, and he often liked to clutter the back room with his supplies. Lately, he'd been spending an abundance of time at his studio, and it left Elisabeth by herself. Her mother wasn't in town at the moment; her occupation required weekly trips to other locations. Brushing off flakes of snow, Elisabeth marched to the couch and plopped herself onto it. It felt good to be alone, but it was crushing. She wanted her wolf. Its crushed-leaves and burnt-wood scent. Its majestic stature and rough fur. She wanted to meet it, to keep it all to herself. But it was gone now. She'd have to wait an entire year for it to come back.