Moonsong Glacier tastes like tequila

she'd not forgotten the icy words of her mother when it came to the sheltered lifestyle of village living.

pull your weight, make your bed, do not become a burden.

she'd abided by these words for the majority of her life, knowing only a brief freedom from the weight of them during the last few months. like a well crafted music box, she wound up the handle and watched the ballerina spin.

she would work until the song came to an end, only to wind it back up once more and spin anew.

the focus of her labour would be directed in the form of a hunt today. her prey in the shape of a particularly grumpy badger.