Kintla Flatlands old and merry tune

Ah, it would seem that the night favoured her after all. It was not a resting spot she found, but the scent of a rabbit, fresh and tantalizing. Her course was altered immediately, and the siren nimbly moved down the rocks. Here was a place of bracken and bush, snow-covered and shadowed, and beyond the twisted branches was movement. She drew near silently, carefully; but it was then that the wind shifted and the rabbit caught her scent. 

Already on edge, the thing took off like a shot; leaving her springing through the bushes after it, to no avail. Pushing through the bracken, she froze when she saw the hulking form of another; realized quickly the hunt she'd just interrupted.