Ranuk was eager to stretch his legs. Hunting in the swamps was a different beast. The very ground was unstable, liable to trap and ensnare as it was to support. One had to find a safe vantage point and wait for prey to emerge from their watery hiding places. To actively pursue meant death in such a treacherous environment.<br/><br/>He longed for the simplicity of the mountains. To run, wild and free and unrestrained. To chase through the fields and the trees and on the cliff sides, his paws thundering against solid ground and rock. How he missed it, the thrill of a true hunt. Elk and deer would be perfect, and Tamlin could show him the new terrain.<br/><br/>Ranuk was ready to settle for sleep but the decorative collar was heavy and beginning to chafe. He huffed a sound of annoyance as it bit into his neck. He lifted his head and attempted to find the latch hidden in the back, but his fingers were large and clumsy. It was impossible to see what he was doing. His nails scraped against the metal, no doubt leaving terrible marks. He would be scolded for it, though he considered tearing off the whole thing together if he could not find the infuriating clasp.