Bitterroot Valley I waited for you

There were still many foxes in the valley. Angel didn't mind them there, but when she caught them sneaking from the caches, she took it upon herself to hunt them down. This one had put up a bit of a fight, and her muzzle was scored from its flashing little teeth — but the tiny beast was now dead, and halfway stripped of its skin by Angel's careful teeth.

She did this work in the grasses, underneath the weak winter sun. Blood stained her chest and paws from the messiness of the work, and the pelt was currently redder than it was orange. But it had been a large fox, and she thought it would make a fine pelt when it was done. She worked carefully to keep her cuts clean, even if her own ruddy pelt suffered for it.

She hummed while she worked — as song from her girlhood, back before everything had gone wrong. Those were sacred times to her. Times she'd kept locked up safe in her chest for a long, long time. But she was beginning to feel that she'd gone back there. Back to a place where everything was as it should be.

Still. It was a little lonely here, even though the valley was beginning to bustle. When she was done working, she promised herself, she'd go and find someone to speak with.