She rubbed her chin as she hunkered down to stare at the footprint in the snow. The powder was fresh, over six inches had fallen overnight. It was unusual for this time of year, at this altitude. Not unheard of, but unusual enough that it had taken her by surprise, not to mention annoyed her horse who gave her a look that said she could walk herself to the next settlement when she had made it outside of her tent.

Now there was the issue of the footprint. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else up here, not with the festival coming up in less than another cycle of the moon.  Meeting someone out here didn’t worry her. She could take care of herself and her horse. What was worrying was there was only one footprint.

She stood up and scanned the area with her hand shading her eyes. There was nothing. Not a single other footprint, only miles of unadulterated snow as far as she could see. Who, or what, left only a single footprint outside her tent? She  wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.