The ringing of falconry bells broke the evening stillness, and Noellia glanced at the norway spruce that towered over her. Its needles were frosted with snow, the scent of pine wafting over her senses. Icicles fell from the larger boughs of the trees, like crystalline ornaments dangling from the canopy.

"Oh, there you are!" Her hawk had finally returned. With a sigh of relief, she blew her whistle, gauntlet raised and garnished. Majora watched the tempting piece of rabbit haunch for a moment before tucking his wings and landing gently onto the glove. He swallowed the tidbit whole, as Noellia's mouth spread into a grin. Silly bird. He always did this, tried to eat pieces of meat that were far-too-large for him. One of these days she feared he'd choke.

They were quickly losing daylight, the orange and yellow shade of twilight dampening the sky. Dark clouds loomed on the horizon, harbingers of the lake-effect snow storm on its way. The meteorologists had been calling this the "storm of the century" for days, and Noellia's mouth quirked into a half smile. The forecast was always over-exaggerated.

December, the month of short days, was her favorite month to hunt, especially when the ground was white with snow. There was something about the stillness, the absolute silence after a storm that put her soul at peace. The crunching of her boots as they sank in the crisp layer of

These days game was scarce, however. After the severe ice storm several years ago, the rabbit population had yet to bounce back.

Although Majora had most certainly caught something while he was out of sight, if his huge crop was any indicator.

Hopefully just a vole or something, Noellia thought, and fed Majora's braided jesses through his anklets. Hopefully nothing too big, or he would be too heavy and stubborn tomorrow.

Even if he had caught something, that still didn't answer the question as to why he had taken off in the first place. With such great eyesight, he could see much further than she could, especially from a low soar like he had gone into earlier that morning. But he never strayed far, or for long.

And Noellia's telemetry- it had been on the fritz the entire time she'd searched for the bird. Something was definitely off today.

Even now, Majora seemed more high strung than usual, pausing every few seconds to survey their surroundings. His feathers sat flattened against his sleek form. Alert.

Must be the storm.

Noellia hoped it was just the storm.

Majora had never liked bad weather. Perhaps the local meteorologist was right about this one. Maybe there was a chance that this would indeed be the "storm of the century." The dark, billowing clouds were closing in with haste, the trees surrounding her heaving in the gusts.

It was time to get out before nightfall came, although a full moon was beginning to crest over the horizon, illuminating the dusty clouds of snow that were starting to fall ferociously.

She picked her way through the woods, dodging fallen ash trees and puddles underneath the thin sheets of ice. Majora danced on her glove as she strode home, nervously trying to hurl herself off of Noellia's hand. She really should have hooded the bird, but she'd left the small leather cap at the house. Hadn't expected the hunt to spiral so out of control so quickly.

It seemed like only moments before the air pressure changed, and the wind picked up, more bitter than before. Majora cried out in distress as a wall of white buffeted into them, and Noellia's world spiraled into a blinding, frozen hell.

A blanket of white, a strong squall.