Spotted Eagle Mountain orod

weaving trough snow with as much ease as flat earth, was a skill slowly learned, always practiced. taking careful step and unyielding momentum to advance downward without losing footing, misstepping on covered stone or hidden burrow.

when the mountain's base approached, medalina turned her body sideways, and slid to a halt upon a large stone, jutting horizontal out the slope.

the пас watched the land of вукови. a huntswoman's sharp gaze sliced across the hollow. 

right below; a lake. beyond it, a forest. to the south, a heavier one. all good hunting grounds. and there, just by the river cutting trough - a deer, still with an unshed crown.

yet it was strange. as much as her eyes sliced the scenery into observable segments, there seemed no trace of вукови...