The dead howl of a ghosting wind.

Shattered ice spilled forth round the pillared

pine, the dark of night closing all around.

Into this she awoke.

Arising with a grunt, she pulled what meager clothes she had on tighter together,
scant protection from the needle-sharp gusts. A shiver, a pant, and a ballooning
cloud of mist quickly swept away, cast off into the dark. She looked around, saw the
ice and swirling snow and looming mountains of pine and needle, shivered again,
and stumbled toward her pack four steps away.