Alpine Lake for merely dreaming we were snow

It was easy to fall into step behind the silver woman, ambling with the gait of an ox to her rear. Without the chipmunk to disrupt his gait, it eventually smoothed into the stride of a plowhorse, plodding along across the snow. Keeping his eyes and ears open was an easy task without chatter keeping him from it, and Sable’s eyes swept the frigid landscape with a laser like focus.

The trails he could discern were interweaved, a high traffic spot between the bushes catching his attention first, but quickly deciding nothing had passed quite recently. Maybe if they had gotten here an hour beforehand, but Sable had been napping, and who knew where Masque had been.

He cast his gaze to the silver woman. Had she caught the scent of anything in particular? Or discerned some rustling he hadn’t heard? He wasn’t as good of a hunter as he could be, all things considered.