Sunset Valley my lord my light

késhka moved like a shadow across the vast, open plain, the wind carving sharp against her exposed skin. snow stretched endlessly in all directions, unbroken save for her steady path and the long scars that marred the right side of her face—jagged, silvered reminders of a past best left buried.
she exhaled, breath misting in the cold air. no scent on the wind, no sign of shelter ahead. just white, endless and unyielding.
still, she walked.

AW; maybe @Iosef