Hushed Willows Take me back to the night we met.

She woke before dawn's light broke, curled close to herself and with her nose buried in the warm furs of her tail. Enveloping her was a thick blanket of fresh-fallen snow, though she cracked the surface with the lifting of her muzzle. She looked around with amber eyes still misted with sleep, then collected herself up onto scrawny limbs as her jaws parted in a yawn.

She shook out her pelt, trapping air beneath the layers that her body could warm while she moved, then pressed on toward the lake's edge to drink. The shallow waters were frozen, as expected, but the ice was easy enough to break through with a swift jab of her paw.

Wayfarer assumed a stroll, eager to locate a decent point to catch a good view of the sunrise.