tracing one warm line through a land so wild and savage

The frigid wind bit against the exposed flesh of her leg and shoulder and not for the first time, she wondered if it was worth her while being this far north. Hazel persisted, so, so did she. But the desire to retreat to the south, where ice rarely covered the ground, was working its way into her bones with every blustering blast of icy wind.

Violet eyes narrowed against the bone white of the stones. Gazing out over the icy expanse of the frozen river bed, a dark antlered shape was picking its way across in her direction. She tipped her head. Was the ice even solid enough to be crossing this time of year?