Bitterroot Valley you played your games

She worked tirelessly on her fox pelt, snipping away every shred of flesh so that it would last, and so that it would be easier to work with once it dried. The badger pelt, too, was under her care. That one was already drying, draped over a low-hanging branch of an old, barren tree.

She was laid out in the dirt nearby, scraping away the last few lingering bits of tissue that were stubbornly sticking to her project.

"Damn," she huffed, tilting her head to survey her progress. Her tail whisked as she took note of the neater edges on this pelt, compared to the one that she'd been toting around the past few months. Still — it seemed a long way from perfection.

And she couldn't get these little bits off. It was frustrating, and she stood with a weary sigh to stretch her aching back.