Moonspear like the vapor of a vale

In the foothills and the lower mountainside there was a drizzle, damp and dim beneath the tree boughs.  At the middle reaches, the slight rain became slick and treacherous, a fine sheen of ice.  At Moonspear's heights, though, there was the lightest fall of snow.  There one would find Tehama, if any were seeking her, which surely none were.  It was a late grey afternoon.  Te had not yet found herself any particular den, and so she couldn't yet be missed from such a home, and she had not yet met so very many of her packmates as to have anybody seeking her out for any particular reason.  She'd been busying herself with small hunts, seeking to fill the pack's caches, and with exploring the mountainside.  Soon enough she intended to see if there were any larger task she could fill or role she could learn, as hunting became less plentiful and the world turned to scarcity, darkness, cold.

But for now, she simply sat and rested on an outcropping well above the forest line, where only a smattering of small trees dotted the landscape and a great cliff descended beneath her and another rose behind her.  Something of a natural staircase etched over eons into the rockface had brought her here, and the woman was pleased to find that her upbringing among such jutting rocks and hazardous enscarpments was serving her usefully once again.  It would require a slow and careful descent later on as the temperature dropped precariously, but for now, the tawny lady wished to watch the snow fall.  She was at peace, full of feelings of belonging.  Powder snow danced down.