Lost Creek Hollow my skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel

The girl hums quietly to herself, thinking about weather patterns and their relation to hunting, or using the best of your situation.  The day is fairly clear with a light snowfall earlier in the day that dusted the ground.  Neither of their coats could blend into the snow so other tactics would be requires to adhere to their surroundings.  Root nods her head, though once she suggests hunting.  Perhaps Root would get a chance to get her advice.  Root turns from the water, letting the other lead.  

“Are there any significant weather patterns that affect herd-prey travel?” she asks.  If she were to go out in a few days to try and find the herd she told Mordecai about, she would need to know where to start.  If heavy snow fall altered their route and she couldn’t find their trail, she might never find them.