<div class="floatleft">(http://www.infinitelibraries.com/images/Elli/Wolfspirit.jpg) </div><strong>Ansha Wulfhart</strong><br/><strong>Location</strong>: Mighty Plains area<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Not as of yet.<br/><br/><br/><br/>The wolf had lost count three fights ago. Ansha hadn't been keeping good count herself, but the bachelor pack was getting annoying anyway. She'd rolled most of them, chased off all of them frequently, and not one demonstrated he had either the fortitude or the brains to be a proper match.<em>Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue... oh, the hell with this.</em>Ansha thought, as she trotted off from the scene of the latest scuffle. The wolf disagreed, Ansha shook herself until her hackles settled, then moved off with a purpose. They were /not/ going to find a proper mate here. Maybe somewhere else. Hunters could be irritating - and also damned entertaining. Certainly, more so than anything she was finding here.<br/><br/>The cache was a small one, forgotten by most. Ansha had found it on sheer chance, and had made good use of the thumbs the wolf distained to make sure it stayed forgotten. From it, she retrieved three tightly sealed packages, wrapped in oilcloth, sealed with copious amounts of wax. One contained a heavy great axe, of dwarfish make. Another contained a small selection of clothing - tough, water-resistant wool, mostly - and a few small coins in a pouch. Ansha sniffed it and winced at the still-heavy scent of the lanolin. The last was armor, tough boiled leather, studded with brass. She assembled the outfit, noting in passing that it was cold and damp and without fur, /she/ was cold and damp, despite the wool. Moving would fix that. At least, she hoped moving would fix that, she thought, shaking tangled black hair out of her eyes. She stuffed the pouch down the front of her armor, and pulled the cloak a little tighter before loping off barefoot.