Backing out of her stone protection, she doesn’t dare look away from her visitor. The eyes follow her every step, and for the first time she is oblivious to the sleet’s sting as it beats across her skin.

The faint edges of the lurking creature become clearer as it steps lithely down from the boulder and prowls toward her, a thick body standing on four muscular legs as high as Margo’s chest. It moves in familiar, cunning patterns. The edge of a tail flicks outward, a feline’s sign of distrust. Nearly transparent in the whirl of snow, the pure white lioness watches Margo curiously. Her thick fur ripples in the wind as she skulks forward. The beautiful beast turns and encircles her, eyes twinkling through the flurries. She cracks her jaw to glare dagger-sharp teeth as long as Margo’s fingers. A purr-like snarl seeps through.

The cat drops her head to her front paws, her back curling identically to the Hederman’s barn cat. The pose snaps Margo out of it. This is no beauty. This is a hunter and, scrawny as she is, Margo her prey. A lump forms in her stomach as this sinks in.

The wind clatters the icy trees and whistles through Margo’s hair. Her hand twitches involuntarily at the open air, as if some form of salvation would magically appear. But it won’t. She is quite alone.

A second flick of the tail. The cat claws the ground with paws the size of mitts.

Without a plan, Margo does the only thing the prey of an animal can do. She uses her instincts. She runs — straight into the dangers of falling icicles. But she’d rather take a spear through the head than be eaten alive by a wild cat. Panting, blind against the snow, she knocks branches out of her way, giving the cat exactly what she wants: a head start in the game.

Thum-dum! Thum-dum!

The rhythmic thudding of feet catches up faster than she expected. She weaves between trees. If only the snow wasn’t falling so hard….

Not ten feet ahead, the outstretched body flies through the air landing with an ice-crunching crash. How the cat ended up in front of her, Margo is not sure. In two bounding strides, it is right on her, paw extended and swiping through the air.

A blaring sound escapes Margo’s throat. The impact against her cheek shoots bright lights across her vision and sends her flying into a tree. She quickly pulls her legs into a fetal position just before the second attack plummets from above. A dozen icicles shower down from the treetops like darts. Once the creaking of the straining tree above her quiets, she peeks through her arms hoping the icicles scared the cat away.

It hadn’t. The feline paces as curiously as ever, not the slightest bit baffled by the fallen spears.

A spasm throbs up Margo’s arm.

“Gah!”

Frostbite? She doesn’t know all of the symptoms but is sure muscle spasms are on the list. But how can this happen now? As she faces her death.

There is a new dullness in the cat’s eyes as if she’s grown bored of her prey. Fur stands on her arched back. In a deliberate crouch, she rocks back one last time before propelling herself forward. Her feet leave the ground as she sails through the air with claws out and paws spread. She pulls her lips back to expose her teeth for a fatal strike.

The liquid, tingling runs down Margo’s arm to the tip of her fingers. She shrieks, turning her head to shield it with her arm. The other flails out wildly behind her. A crushing weight hits her back arm, threatening to snap the bones. Margo is suddenly gripping something cold until her knuckles hurt. It is met with a hot liquid. The crashing boom followed by a whimper is the last sound of the attack.

Margo sits there trembling, not knowing what happened, why she isn’t dead. Slowly, she turns around and carefully pulls her protective arm away from her head. In her other hand is a long icicle, piercing through the cat’s chest. An icicle she knows for a fact she was not holding before.

She releases it, staggering away from the animal.

The cat slowly moves as if attempting to sit back up, but the burden overwhelms her and her body falls limp, crystal eyes glossy and empty. Her luscious white fur, which Margo now sees has faint gray stripes, ripples in the wind and is painted in red.

Margo falls to her knees, her hands shaking and unable to peel her eyes away from what she has done. The last bit of the weapon melts from the warm blood of the cat’s side. Without the intent of the hunt, she suddenly holds the innocence of any ordinary house cat with her silky black lips, pink tongue rough like sandpaper, even a collection of grey whiskers. How could she have seen her as a beast?

A hand involuntarily reaches for her nearby gut disappearing into a layer of fluff. Her fingers instantly thaw. There is no stopping it; Margo melts into the side of the cat’s body. It still holds much warmth. She pulls her arms into its side feeling the goose bumps disappear. The numbness soon follows.

What a strange place I’ve discovered, Margo thinks to herself. She knows she should be more concerned with nearly losing her life, but mountains of questions seem to fill her mind once again. She is desperate to unlock the mysteries of this icy forest and longs to discover its secrets and more of its fascinating creatures. Or maybe this is just hypothermia talking.

Her mind wanders through wintry woods in hopes of forgetting the beast whose life she’s taken. She closes her eyes and involuntarily snuggles closer to the cat.