Snowfeаther's page

The brigand was still a threat to Cerise, so Snowy continued attacking.

Snowy moved first, rushing up to stand over Cerise. Judging one brigand to be too close, he snapped at the attacker.

Snowy cocked his head at master. These were new words. Snowy approached master. Maybe new words meant food?

Snowfeather stalked through the forest beyond his nest, silent except for the occasional trill of songbirds. The forest floor being clear of brush and logs was not lost on him, leaving few places for small prey to hide, but neither did he appreciate the effort the villagers must have taken to maintain this forest so. The morning sun penetrated the forest well, creeping under the lofty boughs of the aspens and around the thin covering of needles that clutched to the pines. At ground level, the forest was simply a sea of thin columns of brown and white, the ground bare except for a light dusting of dried pine needles and occasionally freshly dropped white branches.

Snowy paused, becoming still as a slight motion caught his eye. There, at the base of a pine a hundred paces away, a small rabbit was nervously nibbling at the bark. Snow sniffed the air, but the rabbit was downwind. Slowly, carefully, Snowy leaned down into what passed as a crouch for him as the rabbit tilted its head up as if sensing the disturbance nearby, and then exploded forward, a missile of talons and teeth. The rabbit immediately scurried around the side of the tree, and was down a nearby burrow before Snowy reached it. Snowy stuck his snout into the burrow experimentally, snapping his jaws at random in the hopes of catching a leg or flank, but it was too deep. Standing once more, Snowy began scratching at the burrow with one foot, hoping to dig the rabbit out.

I'm assuming the villagers maintain this small montane forest for wood. I wasn't sure what season we're in, so I've refrained from commenting on the color of the aspen leaves. The nice thing about pines and firs is that they don't change too much over the seasons.