Moonsong Glacier Of the pine-trees crusted with snow

The work of her sitik was well under way. It was spacious, though not yet lively. One day soon, perhaps.

Sooner, it would need soft pelts to cover her resting place. Perhaps another thing she might share. 

Standing in the archway, she considered in silence, planning what appearance she might make for it. White pelts, or brown? There were plentiful options for both. But she just couldn't seem to make up her mind!