13
Fern
The cold seared my lungs as I crept out of my hiding place. It took me a few minutes to push aside the snow laden branches, but at last I stumbled out into a world of white. Working my stiff fingers, I ate some snow.
A desolate landscape, white and barren, stretched before me and behind. I wished the wolves would howl again. Perhaps they were buried. Perhaps they’d died in despair.
With that bleak thought, I pressed on.
Svein
Over the course of the hunt, I came to know my prey’s scent, fresh and strange, clearly distinct from the blue frost smell of the cold. Each footprint bore a faint whiff of wintergreen, along with the smoky tang of woodfire. Underneath, some enticing sweetness, almost floral. Like long forgotten springtime.
By the time I caught up to my prey, I had fall
