Snowforest Taiga morning star

It was quiet.

The tracks of a hare cut cleanly through the fresh snow, followed swiftly by the pads of a wolf, paws not quite breaking the crust.

Would the ice-mountain remain as she had left it? Would he? 

Change was imminent, yet she feared it.

Standing at the edge of nowhere, the morning star sang a hymn to the evening sky, breathe a plume of white smoke that rose to join the gathering snowclouds. Her voice was full of sorrow and trepidation, but the final message was clear.

I am coming home!

@Dutch

Far away, the panther roused himself from uneasy sleep. The thin sound fading on the breeze might only have been the distant whistle of wind — but he blinked, suddenly alert, and leapt to his paws.

"Tulugak," he said, his chest seizing uncomfortably. He was not sure if it was elation or worry that gripped it so tightly, but for a moment, he could no more speak than he could sing. But he drew in an unsteady breath, and then another, and then on the third he sang back:

I cannot wait for dawn to break
So hurry on your way
Every day I hoped and prayed
To be with you again,

Now the panther hunted — he wanted Tulugak to come home to a fresh meal.