Firefly Glen you've got a tattered line of string

She had been napping, but had not fallen into the depths of her snoozefest before she hard movement. Leta's head popped up, erupting from the snow to take a look around. There was a face she had seen before, but mostly in passing or else from a far distance (Leta was quite avoidant after the loss of Clay). Remembering her resolution, she pressed up and shimmied the heavy, insulating blanket of snow from her shoulders. 

Her tail waved, unseen but causing the snow to begin to shift above it... it would be visible soon enough. Hiya, I'm Leta, she introduced, voice a little soft thanks in part to her shyer nature, but also the lingering remnants of sleep.