Forest night bathed in midwinter darkness, devoid of summerbird song.  Diane curled up in the darkness in her shelter, still shivering.  Outside the wind howled incessantly, throwing around snow.  The dry grass and pelts inside her shelter kept her from freezing to death, but not much more.

The hunger nagged at her to go out, but she knew that prey would be impossible to find in this weather.  It would only make her colder, only exhaust her further.  She had to wait, had to be patient.  Now and again she would eat snow to keep away from dehydration, just a little every time to make sure she did not have to waste precious energy on melting it with her body heat.  And she waited, curling up with her feet under her body and her hands pressed tightly to her armpits, making her surface as small as possible.

Outside the wind howled.  Diane howled with it now and then, but the wind always won and drowned her howls in yet more snow.

(From my Nanowrimo novel 2011)

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