#s://i~ibb~co/Js3FQwz/rose~jpg

It was almost dark enough that the untrained eye might believe they were observing the gloom of the evening, and not the sunrise that Rosewhisker knew she was soon to bask in. With leaf-bare came later mornings, colder mornings, but her thick pale fur was enough to keep her reasonably comfortably, especially as she climbed the slopes of the mountain, seeking out the sort of prey that only emerged in the early half of the day. The ice beneath her paws didn't phase her, both because the incline was not so steep, and because she was sure of her footing.

Overhead, the sky was still dotted with the stars of silverpelt, though soon they would fade with the rising sun. Across the horizon, she could still see the pale image of the moon, partially shrouded in clouds that, coupled with the wet chill in the air, promised a later snow.

Best to hunt now, before the landscape was covered in white and the prey she sought was nested too comfortably to put itself in her path. She sniffed the crumbling stone beneath her paws and nearly purred when the scent of her quarry reached her nose: ground squirrels. This scent was stale, from the previous day, but soon, when the sun broke the horizon, they would emerge from their holes and be swiftly met with her claws.

The sky warmed with the sun's presence, overlaying the mountains in a golden hue. It brought little warmth, but she knew it signaled the beginning of the squirrel's day time activities. Sheltered from the prey that sought them at night, they would feel brave enough to go gather seeds and whatever else they could scrap together, unknowing that she was waiting for them.

Behind her, she heard the skidding sound of someone temporarily losing their footing only to catch themselves. Who could be here, she wondered, when she specifically set out alone.

"Catch up," she called below, "or I'll leave you behind."