Qeya River hear what the ruins speak

Aw!

Though it could hardly be seen, the sun loomed overhead, the sky painted in an eternal grey. Wisps of snow danced in the breeze, their numbers few-- but the chill undeniable. 
Yesfir remained perched upon stone. Still and otherworldly. Thinned by winter beneath the drape of an elk's weathered hide. Her gaze was fixated upon the frost below, like a glacial heron watching the lake's frozen surface. Droplets of crimson rolled down her chin to stain the pale terra beneath her feet, her expression distant. With a slow repetition, her tongue swiped over ivory fangs.
However...the metallic taste never left. 
The blood was her own.
Fragments of bone dwelled by the woman's flank, as if they meant more than mere physical proof of something that once was. The sting in her mouth came from the pierce of their shards. Yet, the pain did not shake her. She would bury the bones, lay them to their true rest...once her gashes were addressed. 
Yesfir extended a paw to the thin ice below, the surface yielding beneath her weight, splintering like glass.