Winter skirted the rim of the camp and climbed a rather steep bluff, taking her time. She arrived at a stream that flowed downhill, of which she followed until she came to a cove. The cove was thickly guarded by bramble bushes, with mud and rocks that led down to the edge of a shallow pool, she could even see the bottom. Willows danced in the wind, and the trees above interlaced with branches, forming a leafy ceiling through which sunlight streamed. Winter dipped her muzzle to take a drink.
