Whitebark Stream always gonna steal your thunder

She woke with a start, breath condensing in twin clouds of fog as she blinked, lurching to her feet as her gaze scanned their surroundings wildly. When the heaving of her chest paused did she relax, gazing sullenly into the wood. She didn't have nightmares. But still, whatever the hell that dream had been had shaken her thoroughly from sleep, and with a soft sound she pad away from the rest, muzzle upturned to catch a glimpse of the sky as the fragments lingered between the skeletal branches.

It was that motionless time of the night, too late for the nocturnal creatures to be active, but too early for the day's creatures to shift from their sleep. It was the time of in-between, and the fiery girl slipped between the trees with a kind of carefulness she did not usually possess, drifting aimlessly as she worked away the lingering shadows of unease.

Since having spoken with Alarian, the green-eyed ghost had felt much more at ease with herself, however, she’d still not spoken with Lennon. That was where she found herself in the middle of a tangled predicament. Now was not the time to think about this, though.
     It was times like these, in the dark of the night, that the pallid woman cleared her mind. Dipping her maw into the snow, she took several licks. Though it may not have tasted nice, ‘twas hydration and therefore necessary. She let a soft sigh from her maw, gazing upon the stars, the twinkling reflecting luminously in her eyes. There underneath the stars, the elegant figure was at peace.