Wapun Meadow and sit with their pictures until they grow o-o-o-o-old

this one was at ease with the burdensome silence that was astara's world; she flashed a quick look his way as he scratched the snow.

her muzzle cut a razor's edge mark along the powdery snow, ears tilted and panning. no noise no noise no noise n-- aha!

she leapt like a shadowed dart, seamless as a machine. when she rose from the snow a squirming mouse was thrown from her jaws and in the stranger's direction.