Lone Star Mountain combustion

Saghani moved in the silence she had kept for many moons. Her slow-moving gait betrayed nothing of her personality. The lone wolf seemed to move with no intent at all, if one were to watch from a distance. And then she paused, lingering in one place for five whole minutes; her surroundings were an immaculate white, and she was a stain upon the canvas. Not even the evening sky matched her pitch. It was futile to try and hide, here; but she crouched instinctively nonetheless, ears perked forward only just. 

In the distance, far from her location, she heard the mountains catch the echoes of the rams clashing in its net. Sound waves moved through the gaps and Saghani noted it with much interest. Her food sources were the leavings of other predators (greater or lesser, it did not matter, she took what she could) and little else. In the throes of Winter her hunger was great; to the point that she was not thinking as clearly as she ought to, perhaps. Saghani prepared for the endeavor ahead, shifting her trail downwind and ever-upward.