Slightly Better.

Fiamette did not enjoy the snow very much. Growing up in the south she was used to warmer climates, and in the winter she used to have the hot springs to retreat to. Now the hot springs were owned by a pack she was not familiar with, and unfortunately she could not indulge in the warm waters. She still loved to travel despite the cold, so she would treck through the snow, her small limbs sinking deeply into the white slush. Her eyes scan her surroundings for life, and a few seconds of time pass before a black figure steps into her view. She halts for a moment, her stare fixed on the creature as it daringly steps onto the frozen river. Curiously she slithers toward the rivers edge. She does not care for this woman's safety, but if she fell and cracked her skull open on the ice at least she would get a good laugh out of it. Silently she watches the woman, waiting for her to notice her presence.