Meadowlark Prairie baby, you wouldn't last a minute on the creek

The yip startles her and her ears swing upward, looking back forward the right. The tall grasses rustle nearby but the snow weighs down most of the movement and she loses it. She turns a little to try and peer through the foliage but it doesn't offer much of an advantage. The scent she's noticed is canine, at least, but the high pitched hip left her curious: coyote or fox. Either way, it isn't something she likes to concern herself with and her new path leads her onward again, unaware of the danger ahead.