Silver Moraine And the cracks in my hips

Calfuray had taken the time to lick her wounds clean, and now she had moved on. Past experiences had taught her that is was not wise to remain in one place for long.

Limping leg behind her, the one-eyed, snaggle-toothed, and short-tailed woman thought she must look like a walking catastrophe. Inhaling a sharp breath, she looked south. Nothing but white on the horizon, though at this time of year it should be expected.

After a brief pause she shifted to continue her walk down the rocky, dried up river bed. The world was quiet for a moment with the exception of a cool breeze, but this peace was not made to last.

The crunching of snow was quick to draw Calfuray's attention, single eye searching for a source as she ceased movement; frozen like a deer searching for it's predator.