Emberwood [m] Disaster falling on me after the sun comes up

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For @Stærk

Alone once again, Marina found it more difficult this time to keep herself from falling into melancholy. To pass the time she cleared snow from around her temporary den, narrowed the entrance with branches fitted tightly against each other. Her nights would be less cold this way, she hoped.

When that was done, she hunted. Winter had driven the smaller prey largely into hiding; a less practiced hunter, or even a lifelong pack-wolf might have gone to sleep hungry that night. Marina was patient, though, and not picky at all. She snapped up a few skittering rodents from beneath the snow before she found something more substantial.

Marina retreated back to her den clutching two little rabbits, her muzzle smeared with cooling blood. Enough to keep herself fed for the night, at least — but perhaps the Bearclaw Valley man had been right. How long could she live this way?