Duskfire Glacier I no longer recognize your face.

Scrape. 

Scrape.

Scrape.

The sound was steady, rhythmic - enough so that Tapeesa was able to lose herself in it. Nothing mattered except the continuous scrape of her paws in the dirt. The smell of it was rich, dark. It promised bounty and life and smelled of spring - a silly notion given that it would be growing ever colder in the coming months. 

Thoughts of nanuk and the pack faded, leaving only the burn of her muscles and the concentration needed to dig the furrows. 

It was near sunset, around the time the other members would be waking. The tundrian had been unable to sleep today, even with the assistance of her psychoactive mushrooms. She'd given the drugs up - her attempts weren't working and she disliked the sluggish way they made her feel. The berserker was working the last of them out of her system - finding that when she attempted to slumber she was caught in dark and frightening dreams.

The evening found her atop the glacier, deep in the forest near the fields of flowers. She'd been working for some time - if the dirt that had discolored her pelt was any indication - and was about halfway done digging the furrows she needed. When she was done, they would stretch across the clearing and she would have a plot of dirt just waiting to be transformed into a garden.