Bearclaw Valley little black book

What she hadn't counted on was how nimble the little hare was, even in the snow. Or it's internal map to one of many bolt holes scattered far and wide. As it dashed down for safety to one such gaping, snow crusted mouth, the young hunter was rudely surprised. 

Not by the sudden plunge of her prey into a recess, but the sudden tilt of the earth hidden beneath the snow. The ground seemed to give way sharply under foot. She stumbled and slipped. Frantic to regain control, only to tumble head over tail to land in an ungraceful heap.