Post

Whose woods these are you think you know.
Her house is in the village, though;
She will not see you passing here
While all her woods fill up with snow.

_{snowflakes tumble from the canopy of trees. your steps crunch tracks through the snowfall. but they are not the only tracks in this wood, as prints follow the suggestion of a path running off into the night. the prints can only just be made out, the falling snow having worked hard to cover their owner's tracks. what might be a distant howl can be heard, though whether wind or beast is unclear.}