Open snowfields gave way to denser tree cover as I continued forward. Then to the thick undergrowth of what had probably been impassable in the summer. Maybe even during the autumn.
Now the vegetation was a maze of brittle branches and thorny frozen vines. The scent trail disappeared into the heart of it. I even licked my nose twice to wet it and make sure.
Too tight in there for me to push through in this form without making noise. Too dark to see clearly into the depths.
> Waiting, then. <
I found a position concealed by a fallen log that seemed downwind, changed back to my human form… and settled in. I kept the pulleys of the blow close to my body so that the string did not get frosty.
Not having stopped for very long all this while, I experience a downside to my ability. A perfect hundred and one degrees kind of melts snow. I might not feel temperature, but my skin can still detect myself sitting in liquid.
