[519 words].

The forest was beginning to look bare. Corona wasn’t so sure she had ever seen it shed its leaves, given that she had always come and gone. The change of the seasons wasn’t new at all to her, but she viewed things through with a set of clear eyes. But not so much a clear mind, which was never so out of the ordinary for her. Corona’s thoughts were still scattered as ever and the reclusiveness that had once been more her father’s thing than her own was always just a stone’s throw away. But she had spent plenty of time holed away wherever she deemed fit, prefer seclusion to the hustle and bustle that usually carried on Inferni in a low din. Things had been quiet, but perhaps never quiet enough to lull them into being off-guard.

But within the forest, she thought none too much of what all the others could have been doing. Instead she was trying to find minute ways of making herself useful. It had been easier in the months past to add to whatever they had in silence and secret because things had been abundant. She had been able to dry and build up a nice stock of herbs and plants scavenged from their own territory. But now that life was rolling itself into the harshest season it had on the shelf, she was debating the things that could have been done to give them a solid step on the high road through that season. For herself, she knew she would make one more trip out of Inferni to gather whatever she could find that was viable; but what would Inferni do?

Stepping gently across the terrain ahead of her, she pondered the possibilities. They hadn’t hunted together as a group, but almost felt it was too much to ask. They were lucky to live as one in a group and since so many of them embraced coyote traits (if they weren’t full-blooded coyote, that is), they were natural loners. They benefited themselves and themselves only, yet they listened to Gabriel just as well. It was maybe then that it dawned on her that she had never been in Inferni through a whole winter. She hadn’t the slightest clue how they handled it, and the only way she knew was the way that had been ingrained in her from growing up in Chimera.

Pausing at the base of one tree, she crouched momentarily to check the foliage that situated itself all against the sprawling roots. It was there that she found a tiny sprig of mint, though it was barely of any use. It wasn’t purely for medicinal use anyway, though she knew it could take the bite out of whatever already tasted nasty that she could prepare. So with that one found, she started to dig through the rest of the wilting grass, hoping to uncover more that had been buried beneath leaves and time itself. If there was one that was somewhat decent, then there were bound to be more.