Hoshor Plains blood will spill into the gutters and it will stain the morning sun

From his vantage point he could see her unhurried approach, a ghostly spectre beneath the frosty grey dome.  The bison paid no mind to wolves this late in the year — the season to hunt these ungulates had long passed and would not return until the calving season in the spring — but the Roman bachelor was not a bison, and his attention remained upon her three-step gait.

If it had not been for the abnormality in her stride and the scars upon her ragdoll frame, he could've pictured her his sweet Delphine.  He kept his bloodied stare upon her until she had settled almost just beside him, and as she parted the grass to recline, a rumble delivered from his chest was expelled to alert her of his (now very close) presence.

Overhead the thundercloud rolled, casting shadow upon them, and the wind continued to stir the grasses as a light snow began to fall.