Fairspell Meadow trying to find tomorrow and ease in, til you dive in

Nothing much had come of his meeting in the forest of the plateau, and so he wandered southward, relishing the sight of the plains turned white with snow. With each centimeter, he floated upon the pale expanse; he kicked it up and behind as he sailed, pelt gleaming in the bits of sunlight that found their way through heavy clouds.

This one was brown, and starker against the brightness of winter. Robespierre saw her from a distance and headed her way, brows lifting higher still as he noticed what her fine-boned body bore.

Qu'est-ce que tu fais, sage femme? he asked upon approach.

The reek of wolves had grown heavy; they were not far from a pack claim. And yet here she was with no definite affiliation upon her pelt, watching and. . . Digging? he thought— And for what?

He watched her, mouth set in half-sneer as he awaited a response.