Flycatcher Downs Vindhviða

Quiet flakes drifted from the wall of clouds that enshrouded the mountains in the west. Beyond the clumps of clouds, the evening sky was painted by dulled colors, gradually fading into their darker shades. Zephyrs tugged impishly at the somber hairs of the winter coat. The falling sparse snowflakes flitted before setting atop her head and along her spine. 

Arnarkla sat upon the corpse of a fallen tree above the waving, yellow blades of grass. Moonlit eyes stared expectantly at the blotched sky, awaiting the appearance of the first star. 

She had finished a patrol before veering away to the downs. A hunt was intended on her way back to the Valley. For now, the wraith was enchanted by the opening act of the weather, awaiting the show the heavens would give.