Sleepy Fox Hollow where the sun comes through

During a pause in her prayer, a sound caught her ear—the unmistakable press of paw into snow. A tiny crunch. She rose, standing alert, ears cupped forward. (Why should she be so wary? She was. . .home, after all.) Who's there? she inquired, voice still ringing with the solemnity of ritual.

Maegi left the shelter of the fallen trees and padded out into the open, bicolored eyes flickering. A little snow had begun to fall and settled upon her ivory pelt, frosting the tips of her ears. Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. Who here would not make their presence known?

I know someone's around, she softly called out, breath fogging in the night.