Redhawk Caldera Say it soft and it's almost like praying

Aniuk's head spun atop her narrow shoulders. She had heard the dogged breathing of something low-to-earth but was not concerned. Not until there came the accompanying sound of weight against the snow.

Morning had come unceremoniously; the dawn brought little warmth, the light itself thin and pale. It was sharp enough to make Aniuk squint if she turned towards it. She was thankful that the snow continued to fall because it meant she could remain hidden; hunting would certainly get easier for her as the snow gathered.

Beneath her roamed a wild thing. Where the light could touch upon its hide the snow glowed a faint golden-brown. Aniuk did not know what it was until it flattened to the ground again. The sound of its body crushing the snow made her turn to look.

Two large yellow eyes peered down at the wolf from the boughs of a hawthorn tree. After a moment the woman turned to preen at the feathers on her wing and tugged free a small tuft of white; this fell away and joined the true snow below, inches from the wolf's face.