Morningside Cuesta kill the witch

Most days, Easy slept for long, endless hours. She woke to stretch, and sometimes to hunt, and often to slake her thirst with fallen snow. The bitter cold, thought she'd long weathered it without care, was getting to her the longer she spent stationary, but she was just too tired to get her blood truly pumping.

It was difficult to admit that she'd be in real trouble without Milan — but she meant to, one of these days. She wanted the other woman to know how grateful she was.

"I can smell the snow," she grumbled as she woke, speaking to the mouth of the den. She counted the pups and found one missing — but that was fine. Milan must have him. They were almost as much hers as they were Easy's, at this point. "Is it higher yet than my head?" she asked, continuing in good-natured petulance. Not becoming for a woman her age, but she was doing her best to laugh in the face of her misery, and all the better if Milan could join her.