Her pain grimaces. Small hairs move. A blue vein throbs across her temple, running its river to her center. Yellowed floorboards reflect a dim fire burning in a grate, the room's only light. Beyond the window, land slopes under a fence toward a silver forest.
Stately fronds slope in measured unison until a hill interferes.
A scrim of snow surrounds the forest. A fox sits at the scrim, tail wrapped close, appearing at-one with the thicket where she huddles. Snow gathers at her edges. Inside, the woman turns her face to the window. Waxen lids show the fire's dance.