Of penguins and power animals

By evening, the skies had darkened considerably, clouds like so much suede curtain over a phosphorescent sky glowing of oranges and pinks, but there was little color to be had in the monochrome coffee-pot brewing the coming storm. The sun hadn't been visible but for a few moments all day, and even then, it hadn't been enough vitamin D to break the ominous air that smelled of moisture, the bitter cold, and oncoming rain. There was no bird-song, no prey, and it was too quiet.

Marleen lay just inside the mouth of a cave she'd found. Behind her, deeper in its bowels, the walls were plastered with figures and unnatural colors. She hadn't seen them, didn't care much more than obeying the screaming instinct to find shelter. The light trickled in from the cave's opening, enough for the largest of wolves standing to easily stride in, but it was enough to cut down on the wind-shear. The cold rock beneath her sucked away at her body heat as insatiably hungry as the grave. Her breath hung in the air as white plumes, too warm to intermingle with the frigid atmosphere without freezing.

Her keen eyes watched all of this motionlessly, noting the air, the temperature, the smells. It was quiet bookish things like this that occupied her, and only when she threw all of her intellect at it, lest otherwise she grow bored.