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

Aniuk had known plenty of hardship in her own time; a time which extended beyond the short span of a single wolf's life. Had she seen in to this one's mind perhaps she would have commisserated. 

The loss of some down feathering was of no consequence to the woman. She continued to preen, raising a wing, extending it, trying to tuck her head under and pluck at the reeds of her feathers.

A moment later she shook out her plumes, staring straight ahead with her eyes squinted against the snow that continued to swirl.

When she raised her arms a second time she was aloft; a black-scalloped flight feather fell from where she had roosted and stuck in the snow beneath the tree, the only indication she had been there at all.