Geneva watched the frost on her breath. The winter descended upon Phoenix Valley slowly, its creeping tendrils making the temperature dip. The last vestiges of summer were gone. Although the flora around was still green, it was beginning to fade. Grasses were beginning to brown and become harder and coarser against the toughened pads of her paws.
Geneva felt older. After every ordeal she had had to face, she knew that she had garnered enough life experience to feel changed from the days when all she knew was innocence. Geneva had arrived in Nova Scotia when she was comparatively young. Now, she had been here for almost half her lifetime. The dawning spring that would come after this cold winter would be her fifth spring on this earth. As Geneva neared the middle of her lifetime, she still felt strong, although she no longer felt young.
Her own mate was some seasons her senior, and although he moved with stiffness, she felt that he was still strong. They were no longer a newly minted pair, with youth coursing through their veins, but they had survived the ordeals that had worn them around the edges. She felt - she hoped - that they would come out stronger after this winter. There was still so much ground to cover, and sometimes she did not know if time was working with her or against her.