Moonspear prey to none

Treepie woke to a dusting of snow on the ground, with more drifting softly from the white sky. She enjoyed the peace and quiet as she fetched herself some breakfast and carried it toward a cluster of lodgepole pines on one of the mountain’s lower plateaus. At the foot of a fragrant evergreen, she savored her meal.

Afterward, she indulged in the luxury of a good bath. She was good and damp afterward, though she felt much fresher for it. Keen to avoid a chill, she hopped onto all fours and broke into a hasty trot. Pie headed in no direction in particular, though she spotted Wyvern wheeling in the sky overhead and yipped to her before heading to a large clearing.

The nightjar swooped out of the sky, her wings throwing up a sparkling cloud of snowflakes as she landed a few yards in front of the wolf. Tiuttuk’s tail waved as she regarded the bird. They didn’t spend much time together these days, each busy with her own affairs, but the morning stretched wide open before them.

Race you, Pie said, crouching suddenly.

She gave Wyvern a beat to process that, then took off across the snowy ground. The wind whistling in her ears muted the sound of the raptor taking wing, though she glanced over her shoulder and let out a little squeal when she saw that Wyvern was airborne and quickly catching up to her.

Pie faced forward, then gasped as she realized she was about to collide right into: