Stone Circle the branches have traded their leaves

She struck the ground, and jerked away. Not only did the white stuff sting a cold burn, but seeped the fur between her toes like she’d stepped in a puddle after a rain.

Clary twisted in a bouncing sidewind, trying to get away from the cold while at the same time craning her neck to catch some glimpse of the tracks she left behind. The activity so demanded her concentration that Clary didn’t notice the brown smudge until he spoke - and when he did, she tried to turn her clumsy dance to careen a course toward him.

“Heyyy!” She repeated, a shout, but Clary didn’t look up. She still stared cross eyed at the dance of her paws against the bleached out ground, her brow knit and her tongue quirked out, as if essential to her movements. “Wha’this?” Her toes kicked a spray of slush with every step, and sent the white flying in every direction.