Moonspear one day, we may

The daylight hours felt so awfully fleeting, and despite the bitter chill that persisted, she was determined to rove the mountainside through all of them she could. Sometime early in the afternoon, she began to come upon an open swatch of the Spear's middling slopes that faced the rest of the range it jutted from, and curiosity drove her deeper over the quiet winterscape. She prowled, low nose and keened.

Out in the relative open, she swiftly found herself unimpressed with the way the winds could bite out here and fluffed her coat appropriately. With time her curiosity was rewarded in the scent of bighorns on that very breeze, so that she deemed worth looking into for now. It seemed a little early in the winter for them to be this far down the elevations, or it was compared to the very mild last winter. However, she already had a feeling the weather may not be quite as gentle on them this year. This could simply be further proof of that.

She stayed upwind and above the prey, skirting a wide pathway from where the group of the sheep loitered in a spot where the snow was thin to graze. In spying on them from up here, she didn't think she recognized them -- at least not by their most noteworthy ram among them. She eyed him longest, tracing the twists of his horns, before picking a spot of relative cover to watch from for a while. There she counted the heads and wondered if they were from a neighboring peak, but also had to remember their downfall the last time they had hunted ram in the back of it all. Still, this was useful information to gather, and she was pleased to find them making themselves at home here.