Porcupine Ridge i've seen a million different doors on the horizon

fog rolled in like a stampede of bison. visibility reduced to nil.

pakasqa threaded through a stand of alpine, watchful of the many moving shapes in the mist.

some shapes rose hideous and grotesque in their opaque rendering, only to reduce in size until she was upon them: just a stone, just a stump, here's a fallen log that looked like the great shoulder of a massive bison at a distance!

the forest here played tricks. pakasqa kept her head low as she searched for tracks of game.