Broken Antler Fen I wear my sunglasses at night

it had taken much of an hour to dislodge the catch from the snow, and even longer to tug it back to the borders. now, exhausted and simultanously hot and fridgid, the cold wind whipping around her ghostly form, she glanced back to the prize behind her with a proud glance. A mountain crawler, a thickset ram with horns that curled tightly from its head. Old, and weak, and not her prey, but the winter's. The cold had hunted down the ram, dragged at its steps and invaded it's body with merciless cold, and it had fallen prey to winter's whims. it was simply a matter of dislodging it from the snow and dragging the thing back to what was not home.

Her muscles burned, she was exhausted, but proud. Only a moment of rest she allowed herself before turning back to the thing, gripping it roughly by the neck and inching backward, tuging it into the territory where it ought to be safe from other scavengers. she had promised to commit herself fully to her fresh start, and it was a commitment she would keep.