Northstar Vale A non-fiction fantasy

Diane paused, feeling her company rather than seeing him near. She lifted her nose from the cold press of a hoofprint; the very place where a stag had stood several hours prior, surveying his winter-thin harem from a distance as they foraged. She gazed ahead into the growing shadows, ears pressed forward anxiously for her guest. 

It was his accompanying yip that brought her head swiveling to the right place. She briefly met his eyes, expectant spheres like unlit tinder, in a sharp face washed out by darkness. His scent carried no others witothers and she found herself curious of the wanderer. Tentatively, she took a step closer, tail shifting in small wags and ears pulling back shyly, but her nose extended slightly, twitching with interest in his direction.

"Hi," she spoke so quietly, the wind almost carried hey voice away.