Morningside Cuesta a potato flew around my room before you came

She had not been aware of the cliff, really, until her forelimb had missed its step and her balance was skewed. The sudden absence of ground was made shocking not only by its placement at the edge of a flat meadow, but also by the glare of midwinter's sun that had obscured the edge from her vision. Her tumble down came quickly, to quickly to feel much else beside fear; and was largely unoriginal. Here and there came the muffled thud of a body hurled against stone, the sharp crack when the girl's head found the edge of an outcrop. 

It was after a quick fall, slowed by rock and bramble, that the girl's limp form hit the bottom of the cliff. There she lay limp, gaze half open as blood slowly stained the snow, the only thing to announce her fall a hollow thud.