Arrow Lake i hate my yearbook photo

suddenly, she's falling.

when asked about the event leading up to her plummet, moonshine will have no answer. she'd been on a ridge,  she thinks, too close to the waterfalls and naive to the dangers snow can hide. and then she'd been here, falling. the chances of her having slipped should have been low; she's catious—it'd almost be more likely if some mercurial deity had thrown her against the mountain. 

in any case, she's at the bottom now. somewhere along the way she'd whistled past the stranger, and now she's half-submerged in a snowdrift, unmoving.