Bearclaw Valley oh inside, you feel like needles

AW

the redleaf girl entered the valley at a content lope, snow flung underfoot by her passing. in her jaws she carried the ruffled form of a ptarmigan, its feathers in disarray and neck flouncing limply with each stride.

she made for the small cache she had designed for laurel. already it swelled with the fruits of her efforts; since learning of her sister's pregnancy she had been fastidious with supplying every addition she could muster. once the bird was secured under folds of frozen limbs and dried carcasses she turned and made for the inner region of the valley, searching for any sign of prey to be captured.