Nimble paws wove through the dry, dead vines sticking out from the packed snow and ice. The pale woman wondered what plants grew here in their peak season. Perhaps a fruit or vegetable? With closer inspection, each of the withered leaves had coarse little hairs on them. The sweet n' sour smell of fermentation made its way through the snow, Hecate's nose crinkled and reminisced back to meeting Gent in the squashed cherries. Reminding her of the task that needed to be completed ahead. It wasn't so much that she needed a home or resources, but she needed a base to work off of. She didn't have many folks in the Lore that would still be apt to help her. Which, was her own fault given her abrasive personality and tendency of abandonment.
Her nose lifted from the ground after getting a few strong whiffs of rotting vegetables, looking out over the white and slightly brown surface. There were a few trees sprinkled in the opening but other than that it was barren. She was(seemingly) alone in the field. The wind blew, tussling and combing through her fur. She seemed to have forgotten the beauty of the wild, increasingly out of touch with her surroundings. Everything was business and relationships, lashing out and then worrying sick about the consequences. She had forgot how to just, be.