Mistress WinterTrail and Hound

Mistress WinterTrail throws her cape around her shoulders and heads into the wood, her faithful hound at her heels. The cold curls around the hem of her cape, bracing her for the coming winter and tickling the nose of her hound. She rules the winter trail, this woman whose feet gently rustle the last of the fallen leaves, this woman who feels the faint warmth of the weary sun trickling through the almost bare branches, this woman whose hands lift skyward to welcome the first snowflake.