Lone Star Mountain today, you were far away

The only sound to reach her ears was that of her own teeth catching the ice-tips upon the grass. Some she broke away in her nibbling, some fell away with the faintest of glassy notes. Sometimes the ice would melt immediately upon her tongue but if she was quick she could move these bits to her molars and have a satisfying crunch.

As the mare went to reach for another, there was movement in her periphery that her instincts told her to be mindful of. She withdrew sharply—with more speed than she had afforded her ambling earlier—and saw, then, the young wolf draped in grays.

Her nostrils flared and she pulled herself a step back in the snow. The wolf looked west; Winterfox could smell many things in the air now that she was paying attention, and realized her mistake in having wandered so far. The wolf did not appear to be aggressive in this moment but that did not mean it could not become a threat; so she withdrew another step and another, back, back, back, without turning her attention away.

With more distance she felt a bit better, and saw that there was grass nearby that was gilded by the same crunching ice that she had so enjoyed, and her attention was again divided.