Lost Creek Hollow bowspirit

— open for anyone.

Glittering frost clung to the early morning landscape, though he had long risen before the eventual rise of the sun. His restlessness was brought on in part by the restlessness that had overtaken Harlyn, and the cold morning had only drawn whatever residual warmth he had felt away. It left him grim where his thoughts dared to wander and so, he had opted to keep himself busy.

Given the snowfall that had come in recent days, it had provided the Hollow with cover of wondrous design; the temperature had scarcely rose high enough to peel and melt away the snow that had plastered itself against the wood. Woodlands that were once light and airy now felt damp and blanketed, but that very same snowfall had been nothing more than a canvas for the wolves and their prey to crisscross upon.

He had come across the tracks of a snowshoe hare and followed in its wake, not entirely knowing whether or not he would find it before it spied him. Though the majority of his wounds had healed and were now nothing more than gruesome closed reminders, he found there was still adjustments to be made. He hadn't hunted since before his unfortunate encounter with the cougar and the urge to do had long burned at both ends. But the diminished sight left him to track and slowly at that, perhaps so that if he did happen upon his quarry he would not startle it.

balmorhea — bowspirit