Towering trees at least three stories high glare down at you with their spiny branches and the clouded blue-gray sky as a backdrop. The trees aren't too thick in the Forest, and there aren't many good places to seek shelter or hide, making his a good place to be attacked should you be stalked by an enemy invader. Once in a while you may pass a clump of brambles or a thicket of tumbleweeds weaved together; that may very well be your best source of bedding. If anywhere, this is probably one of the better places to hunt small mammals, such as rodents and rabbit. Not much else resides here except for the occasional very mislead deer, desperately trying to seek out cover from predators, but usually to no avail.

Skeleton Swamp would be quite barren without the gallons and gallons of water that plague its vast acreage. Nothing that can be seen on the wide expanse of dull and dreary landscape is any other color but dead gray-brown, and a thick haze covers the land, making you scarcely able to see several feet in front of you. The water, if you dare to step foot in it, is clouded with a sort of mud that never seems to settle back to the bottom. What little traces of life that remain are just memories of what once was; a dead tree here, from a forest fire, a scrap of bark here, from a great oak that once thrived. Many rogue wolves had stopped here for a drink, but they had obviously never reached their destination; dozens of skeletons line the mucky shore, a constant reminder of lives taken unworthily by the dreary place. A quite depressing place for those who haven't been accustomed to it, but the Emnity wolves consider it just a dandy place to live.

Even though it really is not a sea, many call it that; it is actually more of a lake. The Dead Sea could be referred to as a sort of sub-region of the Skeleton Swamp. A small, narrow inlet is just high enough to let water and not mud slide over it, and after many years and torrents of rain, The Dead Sea is what formed. Its water is hardly pure enough to drink, but alas, it is far more decent than the Skeleton Swamp's water. Most Emnity wolves and whatever minimal creatures that live there have accustomed their iron stomachs to the water's acrid taste. The water is extremely deep, and only a few wolves would even allow the thought to cross their minds; to swim across the two-mile long lake. One could call it brave or foolish to do so, but either way, most who attempt it have a high risk of drowning, for there is a strong rip-current in the middle of the fifty foot deep lake. A steep drop off from zero to six feet on the bank has drowned many a wolf, among other creatures. A bit to the right there is a sort of fence of dead maples, but the water is so deep that it holds them up. Only the tips of the towering trees can be seen among the water, and a bit to the center of the lake is a small island, with a blackened, smaller maple taking root on it. You can see vultures circle the sky several miles away over the Skeleton Swamp, where they feed off of the carcasses while they wait for you to plunge to your death in the black water.

At the very edge of Enmity Territory, there is a small, fairly muddy area; though that should come as no surprise. Patchy areas of yellowish-brown grass poke through the brownish-gray sludge that appears to be mud; however, it is not as moist as the earth at Skeleton Swamp, oozing water with each step. The dead blades of grass absorb most of the wetness from the surface, as it is. Even from fifty feet away, the terribly unpleasant stench of rotted and dead fish corpses reek from the paint-chipped shack in the distance. As it meets your nostrils, you recall others telling you that this place was formerly a fish-house that the humans used to descale and gut their fish, back when Skeleton Swamp was liveable and The Dead Sea had not existed. Several colonies of flies buzz around the shack as their incessant buzzing echos louder in the cold, small room. It's quite drafty, and there is one lone, fire-blackened tree outside. By the looks of the makeshift wooden walls, it looks as if they, too had endured a blaze. The only light comes from a small, four-paned window to your right, and from there the rays of cold light reveal the infinite amount of dust and fish decay collected in a small pile in the corner, near a elevated table with several rusted knives. The only other movement is the scurrying of rats, feeding on the bits and a few spiders itching to catch the flies in their sticky webs.

For as many dull places as Rutus holds to its name, Bahiark Lake is one of the semi-upsides to the territory. Well, for starters, it's a good place to find water that's minimally drinkable; even though it is fairly clean, it is rather drab; the water is a dark, shimmer-less moss green, never reflecting anything on the surface from the sunlight and never shining in the moonlight. Most of it is fairly deep with sand banks, and a quarter-mile out in the middle of the lake there are several small islands on which you can prey on fish, which makes it a fairly good resource for food. Even at its deepest point in the center, the sandy bottom gradually fades into a pebble-laden lake bottom, and it is still fairly shallow at its deepest. The shallowest parts are great places to teach pups how to swim as well as fish for young fish. The thin lining of evergreens are the same dull green-black as the water, leaving little to not much to look at whenever you come here.

Sinner Meadow is one of the few places in the land that actually has a name that corresponds to something that actually has signifigance. Sinner Meadow, with little resources for even the most basic forms of life to thrive, was where those who were exiled from their pack were sent; to a place where most surely they would die in the blazing sun. Sorry, guys, but that's not the whole story; there are snakes large and small to prey on, some venomous, though, along with a number of small rodents, the occasional hare, and the seldom desert fox kit to dine on. Brush and scrub along with the occasional tumbleweed is really the only form of plantlife, but if you want to walk the eleven miles to the foothills of the mountains, near the shade of the evergreens, that's the only break you're going to get. Water is available through chewing the cactus plant thoroughly; just make sure that you dispose of the spines first. Careful, though; tarantulas are quite previlant here... and not the harmless ones, the poisonous ones. There is, however, a small, twenty-foot watering hole in the center of it all, but seldomly does it ever fill completely or even a small amount. Watch out for scorpions!

The Soul Tree, as many have dubbed it, was once a glorious maple tree that towered above the rest on a small hill, allowing everyone within miles to be able to see its towering branches above the forest canopy. Now, it is but an ashen, dead tree, and from first assumption one would guess that it's a brush fire waiting to happen; yet, it doesn't. Some say that it's the powerful spirits of the Alphas lain to rest at the foot of the tree's massive roots that keep the tree resistant against the elements. The roots that buldge up out of the earth have numerous scars on them, revealing the lighter gray inner bark, completely vulnerable to grubs and maggots to feed upon it... and yet, they pass up the tree as if it were just a rock. Each engraving on the tree represents one alpha that has been buried on that small hill, and it is said that anyone that tampers with the engravings or harms the tree is said to be punished by the spirits of the dead alphas that lay their spirits there. Many are quite afraid to even glance at it for more than a few seconds; it has an almost haunted aspect that scares the death out of people. Some wolves that have been prophets and posessed psychic visions have often even lived there for prolonged amounts of time, to see what the spirits have to tell them.

Deshoult was the kind-hearted farmer who took his roots here when this field had its day; the operative word here being "was", for Deshoult is long gone now, and it really was a shame, for he stood by the creatures (not to mention the wolves) side in days that they were to be killed because the town thought they were too "much of a nuisance". Fortunately, the others listened, and now his field remains untouched and overgrown with plantlife and critters, with several rusted farming tools heaped in a pile over in the far north corner; just the way Mr. Deshoult would have liked it. The barn stands a little, though, on wobbly poles and makeshift walls, with several stalls for horses still remaining. The farmhouse... well, no one really knows what happened to the farmhouse. The field is still fairly green, and overrun with snakes, crickets, rabbits especially, and along the edge of the field, a few broken fenceposts lay defeated by weather, some of them with wire still attached to the wooden posts, connecting them all. The fence is also dotted with numerous white, small flowers that grow in clumps on their stems. These are easy for a wolf or any other creature to jump over or sneak under, however; it is getting through the outrageously dense field of wild plants opposite the field that stumps some; it is so thick that walking proves difficult, as if you were running in deep water. Many choose this place to hunt, as the rabbits are plentiful here due to the fact that the undomesticated lettuce, cabbage, carrots and other plants grow wild now, reaching unbelievable sizes; untouched by man. Despite all its good points, once even a light rain comes, this place tends to get a bit soggy and muddy. A good place to dig out a den, though; so what will you make of this place?

The warm rays of sun seem to be drawn to this place, as the yellow orb is usually clearly visible in the cloudless blue sky, with a good amount of crisp air, making this a lovely place to converse with friends or turn out the pups for a good romp. A number of butterflies flit around the perimeter, where Black-eyed Susans grow plentifully in their clumps. The expanse is bordered by a thick wall of elms and oaks bathing in the sunlight, separating you from other territory within Koris and a few other pack territories as well. The flat, short-shorn grass from the deer feeding upon it when night falls makes it an excellent place to spot enemies and hard for enemies to spot you. Toward the corners, there are small, shaded groves of trees where the branches hand over, creating a soft, cool breeze in the summer and shelter from the fridgid temperatures in winter. The grass grows long here, primarily because the wolves choose this place to relax; the deer scarcely dare to venture here, remaining on the perimeter. The overgrown blades of soft grast sway wispily in the wind as they tickle your feet.

Just beyond Shimmer Hill, it's a gentle, though humid climb down to the Nyalbel Pond, but it's definitely well worth the trip. Once you reach the bottom, a small, bean-shaped pond teems with life of all sorts, from insect to plant to creature. The throaty song of toads and frogs are caught by your ears, and you swivel them to catch their full beauty. Each one is unique, even if ever so slightly, and the chorus of croaks and lyrics make the whole place come alive. The pond, like Shimmer Hill, is quite shaded, with only a few hints of sun peeking through the low canopy, dancing on the deep green water. Off to the far side of the pond, where the sun beams down at its most, a large patch of algae and duckweed grows like mad, with a few lily pads there, as well. The willows here are so low-slung over the water, that it is not uncommon to find more than half of their lenthy branches frozen in the shallow water in wintertime. This is where most Koris wolves find their water supply, and occasionally a quick snack. Many animals stop to rehydrate here, such as deer, small rodents, and the occasional fox, and you are no exception.

The peaks of Dawning Mountain could have scraped the sky in their prime. That day is long gone now, and the slopes have been long since worn down by landslides and torrents of rain, but are just as equally beautiful as they were many lifetimes ago. They are quite out of the way from the rest of Koris Territory, but for many that is exactly what is expected; wolves often come here to let out their anger or even spend some private time with their mate in one of the many overhangs of the mountain, safe and concealed. However, the occasional Mountain Lion may mess with you if you make a wrong step. Speaking of steps, climbing the soft, loose-dirt slopes can prove somewhat of a challenge, as many of the "rocks" that you think are solid are just dirt clods; a disaster waiting to happen, and a landslide waiting to be triggered. During winter, this, too, is the same: avalanches. In the summer and springtime, though, small groves of trees and a few areas of moss grow on the slopes and peaks. A light breeze blows across from the west. A few antelope and mountain goat are rumored to live here, but you may have to figure that out for yourself.

For as far as one's eyes can see, Danai Forest is but two colors: deep brownish-black and brilliant viridian green. The trees almost play illusions on the eye; the trees tower above you when you crane your neck to view them, but as you look onward it seems as though they get smaller and smaller as they grow farther from your present position. As you'd imagine, the thick amount of tree cover would make it impossible to walk more than ten feet in a straight line; you're always constantly turning left and right to avoid the mature trunks of the elms and the occasional evergreen. Because of the thick cover, the sky-high canopy is equally dense, allowing but small fragments of light to pass through. Due to the dim lighting, it is cooler and mostly shade plants thrive here, but hardly any plant species can poke their sprouts above the blanket of ferns, their leaves blocking any sunlight from reaching the cool, black dirt. This place is ideal for hunting deer, opossum, and a number of other animals, and it is often at least ten degrees cooler than any land outside Danai Forest.

Long ago, there stood a very old-fasioned trailer camp, populated sparsely by the few who enjoyed the nature, the stagnant pond, and most of all, the mosquitos. The place was torn down for legal reasons, but before anyone could find the old playground that remained, a thick grove of trees had grown around it, concealing it in a perfect circle, however, nothing touched by humans is perfect. The old playground is still quite rusted and unhinged in some areas, not to mention the littering of beer bottles and other miscellaneous wrappings from candy and other things that small children like to eat. One thing that hasn't changed, though, is the overload of mosquitos in the summer.

Trune Valley is... well, it is, in fact, a valley, as it lies between two mountain ranges; the Dawning Mountains and another uninhabited, rugged mountain range that not many wolves set foot on at all, save for the occasional lone wolf. When most think of valleys, they think green and lush oasis between the two mountains, perfect for weary travelers; unfortunately, that fairytale has been sliced in half once you lay eyes on Triune Valley. It's almost desert-like conditions make it hard to inhabit, but somehow the Valen wolves manage quite fine here. The terrain is mostly a mixture of rocky soil and clay, perfect for sculpting and digging out dens for the pack to live in. Scattered about are various sized pieces of driftwood and lightning-stricken, dead, slouched over trees. The land is generally flat, however, there is no sand in this "desert", although there is a good amount of cover available for small prey items like small snakes, rodents, and hares. Of course, with every place that bears small snakes, there are usually large ones; and Triune is no exception, with the rodents and hare adding to the excellent living conditions for large snakes. Watch out for those rattlesnakes!

Once upon a time this beaver dam was teeming with life, the dam itself supporting a large family of beavers and it cut off the river so that it flooded out into the former meadow, which created four clear ponds from which to drink. Now, that river is little more than a filled-in riverbed, packed with dirt and other objects that nature could wash into its dry hollow. Now, you would never even know that it used to be a river, with crystalline droplets of water forming on the little lilypads on the banks; nope. Now, the remains of the stick-and-mud beaver dam remain, on a small island on the banks that was carved out perfectly by the rushing river. The dam has long since been torn up and tattered due to weather conditions and not being kept up, but it still provides competent shelter for a number of small mammals, such as fishers and muskrats and the like. Surrounding the small "island" on which the dam sits are two ponds, quite murky and muddy, inhabited with toads and they certainly dont' make a tasty drink on a hot day. The pups might wretch at the water at first, if you can even call it water, but the adults are accustomed to its stale taste and make the most of it, because it's all they've got now.

This old abandoned mine used to be where the humans that lived at the Trailer Park nearby worked. The rising levels of deadly fumes heightened as the people dug deeper and deeper into the earthen stone cave, and eventually working there was banned. Fortunately for the wolves and a number of other wildlife, it took a few weeks to scout out all of the areas that were safe to inhabit and those that seeped noxious gases. They stayed away from the toxic areas, and with a little memorization of the twisting and turning cave, it soon became a vital place as a sort of shelter in case the pack was invaded an enemy. Moss and algae grows on the moist rock walls. It's deep underground, and quite cold, and despite the fact that there are a few puddles of water here and there, it would never last a wolf one day. Even if you were to drink it, there's a good chance that you'd be infected with the microscopic bacteria that grow in the stagnant water. A few clumsy wolves have injured themselves on the steep, unstable, rocky climb down into the cave, but in most cases it's nothing more than a sprain. Here, wolves must be careful, for poisonous spiders and venomous snakes reside here as well. Though, you may be able to catch a mouse or small snake.

Golden rays glimmer upon the grass, growing close to the ground; it is really more of a moss, rather than a grass, brightly colored green and somewhat curly; however, it is extremely soft and makes excellent bedding. The soft silhouettes of earthen-hued mountains meet eye level, most certainly signs that Koris territory is not far away; few Koris wolves venture here, however, as many loners tend to gather here, not to mention a few other creatures, like deer, squirrels, and rabbit. The meadow actually covers both banks of a shallow, narrow river, which then takes a steep drop, forming a small cataract, or waterfall. The nice thing about this small meadow is that it is surrounded by a protective "barrier" of small pines, various bushes and large boulders. Many lone females choose to give birth to their pups here, as they do not have a pack to provide them with protection they believe that this is the best place. Sometimes, though, a male occasionally stops by for a quick drink from the pure water.

The Hidden Haven Hiking Trail is owned by a wonderfully kind, middle-aged couple who run the resort called Hidden Haven, and it certainly is, in the middle of wolf territory. Visitors are educated about the wolves and their presence and how to go about it if they sight one, but there's always that one mischievious person that has to get into trouble... anyway, the fact is, you may run into humans here, especially in the warmer months like summer. But, other than that, winter, spring, and fall are all yours, save for maybe one or two visitors. The place is filled to the brim with towering Redwood trees, scraping the clouds gently as their leaves sway in the breeze, rustling excitedly. Birds sing their musical lyrics and squirrels chatter their prescence, and every so often a doe crosses one's path. The light are almost mystical greenish rays, due to the thick foliage the sunlight passes through, and the slope is actually on a man-made hill, made of earth piled high; it only LOOKS like it's a low mountain! Leaves and plants from autumns past litter the ground, and butterflies flit across the landscape up the gently sloping hill. There is a line of perfectly spaced wooden logs, fairly thin, but sturdy, lined up along in a queue up the hill, used to climb more easily.

The Polebarn, as many simply dub it, had its day... or did it? It's quite hard to say, due to the fact that no one ever completed its construction. Eventually, the humans decided that it wasn't worth building, and after all that work of half-way finishing the polebarn, they didn't bother to tear it down once more. That was fifty years ago, when the surrounding land was nothing more than a farm field. Now, in the present day, that field had enough fertile soil to support a mature forest, though it has not in any way reached its full capacity. Thunderstorms from many years passed have rotted and warped the wooden panels that form the building. From the outside, the unfinished building looks like it could serve as a makeshift shelter, quite inviting with its cherry-stained wood, faded out and rotted from excessive rainwater, and the windowpanes are cracked in more places than the eye can count. Light filters through these cracks, and bringing minimal warmth to the surprisingly well-insulated barn. The floor, however, is made of concrete, and gets terribly cold in the spring, winter and all, but can provide a cool break for those traveling in the summer. I'd warn you, though; the sun beams pouring through the hole-laden ceiling may look beautiful, but they're only signs of a badly constructed roof. The ceiling is wood, but the roof is in fact, tin, but most of the thin sheets of roofing have been blown off in the wind, allowing for rainwater to pass through in various spots and mold to grow. The support posts in the center of the rather large space are, too, splintered and warped; not a place for pups to be, or any creature, really. Maggots and cockroaches lay their eggs in the rotting wood, and every moment that you have your presence there you're in danger of having the roof collapse on you, possibly leading to your death if not a mild injury. Several barn owls hoot their prescence at nighttime, and a couple of field mice scurry about the cold concrete floor. It's better than nothing if you're a weary loner just making it by, but... take it or leave it.

Helena's Point is a shoreline of golden sand, where a good amount of tourists traveled to. After a while, the tourists tired of it, and now, it is a private, secretive place, with the most dazzling sunsets and the clearest water you've ever seen; even if it IS salty. Towering, clay earth cliffs are wonderful places to sit with a loved one and look out onto the setting sun, the horizon splitting the blue water from the painted sky. On the beach, several large, rounded boulders jut out from the water, and a few on the shore, but nothing too agitating. Small minnows nip at your feet as you walk through the crystal-clear water, and there is always a slight ocean breeze ruffling your fur.