Lost in the darkening woods, ignoring the sounds of wind and unseen prowlers, she shrugged against the cold and tightened her knife grip. A deep breath-- her scarf screened out most of the cold's claws. The warm biscuit and tea was still in her belly and her eyes were adjusting to the dark. The snow had stopped. She could find her way either to grandmother's house or back to her own. Either way, she would go to sleep warm. A few more steps, a few trees passed, a few more thin clear breaths brought her closer to a fire.