Some time in the late hours of the night, Isomne had returned to the small cave, sleeping with a peace she had not known for some time.
When she woke, it was gradually, with a feeling of quiet hope that did not fade with wakefulness.
It was snowing again, and she rose, stretching her frame, and walked until she could catch the flakes on the tip of her nose and greet the blush of morning's light. A new day, the turning of the seasons, a new chapter, perhaps. Would the hunter, her hunter she'd come to know in these last few blissful days walk it alongside her, or would their paths diverge again? A gentle smile forms as her thoughts turn to him. To possibilities.
What would today hold, tomorrow? Perhaps the uncertainty of it all should worry her more, but it did not. Instead there was the feeling of something unexpected to look forward to finding out, perhaps. A deep breath was taken and exhaled in wordless song, a salutation to the world. Good morning, love.