Maeve went into a steady pace, down a path made by loner wolves that use to roam. She sniffed the air every so often for prey. Boy was she hungry. And thirsty. Suddenly she heard rustling in the bushes, and froze. She sniffed the air once again, she smelled a nice plump hare. It poked its brown head out and looked around for any danger. Maeve suddenly, with a burst of speed, surged fourth in the air, and before the hare had time to react, she had landed on it, and broke its neck. She scooped it up in her powerful jaws, and quickly ate it, feeling satisfied, she trotted at a steady-fast pace. Before she knew it, she was at the edge of pack territory. She stopped, and sat down, thinking it wouldn't be such a good idea to enter pack territory. So she waited until somebody would come.