Blackfoot Forest come be the new string on my broken guitar

Plunged under the cover of darkness, even with the illumination of the moon and reflection of the snow, the forest remains dark. Hathor is on edge, if only due to the high-pitched wails that echo across the forest—she swears she sees something in the corner of her eye, yet every time she looks, there is nothing.
‘Paranoia,’ she reasons, for it is rare that any would hunt a lioness, even alone as she is.