Barrow Fields a thousand shades of beige

The woman stalked the plains, the winds chasing each other through the moors field, a chill creeping through her thin pelt. Perhaps she never ought to have moved this far north, but there was no sense moving now; she could only hope that her pelt adapted and grew in thicker than before. She paused at the base of a battered fir, seeming not long for this world. It had, however, protected a small cluster of wild mint, which had some use and would be beneficial to cache for the winter. She settled onto her stomach, nosing the stems before carefully snipping at the bases of them and gathering them carefully, focused on the menial task before her. 

@Furi!