Sunbeam Lair frigid

it was beautiful, and yet, deadly.
The snow seemed to shine, polished, like a pebble. The morning's light shone through branches surrounded by ice, the trees seeming aflame. Branches stood bowed, humbled by the wraith of the ice, and saplings bent as if they were nothing more than limp grass. At the mouth of the cavern she stood, the silent argent sentinel, watching as the rain cascaded over them, transforming soft snow into ice, trees into torches and bent (quite literally) the wood to their will.

Not yet did she venture out, for she was in no rush to act foolhardy, and very likely slip on the ice. No matter the grace and poise with which one may attempt to walk, the ice, she knew, would simply catch them off-guard. They were safe within the cavern, and as her head snapped up to track a branch come loose and tumble through the air, dislodging tiny shards of ice, she understood that not all would be. The branch hit the earth with a dull thud, and all was silence, save for the rain as it ever added to the danger.