Shadewood shadow on the sun

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By the time the weather's rage was quelled, the flame had been doused. A blanket of white had fallen across the woman's coiled form and hid her from the world. She was insulated. Only her nose indicated where she lay — sticking out like a pebble in the dark.
Once rested the ember would emerge again and flicker between the trees; perhaps she would ignite them? Make the world easier to traverse - stain the sky dark rather than white, remove the forest which impeded her efforts.
— No, that'd be wrong.
She did hear a crunch in the snow and lifted her head free - her face dusted with powder - thinking it were perhaps a bough bending under the weight of too much snow. It was perfectly timed; a stranger stood nearby with a trail of crow feathers littering the area around their feet.
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