Northstar Vale raisin

she's not sure how long it's been now, only that it must be winter. the snow is just as her mother had told her, white and cold and melting at her touch. her fascination with it evaporated quickly, however, with much more pressing matters demanding her attention. she knows enough to sustain herself with the odd bit of carrion, or the rarer still rodent or bird, but it's the way back to blackfeather is her priority now. 

and yet, she does not know which of the steep edges that surround the vale to scale. it had seemed so clear when she'd first descended, but rock has an awful habit of all looking alike. tongue slips over her lips as she considers, for the umpteenth time that day, the edges of the vale. the sky is still overcast, snow falling lightly and obscuring the sun entirely. mo huffs, entranced for a moment by her breath caught in the air, and continues on her aimless path.