To the sharp end of my fangs

A solitary figure move along the shadows that engulfed the Garden like ironically the mouth of a wolf, but bright enough for her good night vision to let her move through without being lost, besides her smell and hearing would never falter her unless they were removed at all. Winter's claws brought chill and snow but that never bothered the woman, nothing did beside cowards and weaklings. Eyes as cold as the ice lurked through the apparent emptiness. But she wasnt here to just watch the view, she was here to hunt. Anything really. But she was no stupid, as between her jaws she carried wood, wood she was planning to use to make spears out of them. But first she needed a target. There was no hunt without a victim.

Quiet steps brought her to a trail, from an elk. She followed it until she saw a group of three. All cows. Eye narrowed as her mind began to form a plan. Lowering her body she aimed to walk against the wind to mask her scent, and as she got behind the group she began to dig, hopping to make a hole on it and then start doing her vicious and hopefully effective enough trap.

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