Whitebark Stream on the move, collecting numbers

Her catches of the day included two medium fish, a frozen muzzle and what felt like a burning around her frozen muzzle where her tongue had neglected to clean away the ice and cold. It hadn't started out all that bad, but on her return from the stream a fierce wind had picked up and the temperature plummetted.  It seemed to be turning numb, and the semi-circle of ice halfway up her muzzle felt swollen. She couldn't remember if numb meant good or bad, but she was leaning towards the latter. 

Her hunger was ignored as she left the fish near the others, moving off a bit to swipe at her face, trying in relative vain to clear of the ice and rid herself of the horrid numb-burning. She succeeded only in popping something, and her next swipe came away slightly bloodied as she popped a blood-filled blister she didn't even know had been there.