WHERE A Cold Wind Blows
A cold wind blows down from the North, and every breath falls to your feet in a puff of condensation. You press your frozen fingers into a set of animal tracks, and they come away wet with snow. The tracks are fresh—the animal likely passed through here only minutes ago. You follow the tracks up the riverbank and listen. The river trickles musically beneath the ice, and the wind whispers gently between the frozen pines. Nothing else stirs. You can’t remember the last time your feet were this cold.
And then it happens. Something moves in the trees upwind of you. Dark fur and white antlers briefly separate themselves from the shadows before melting into the shade again. Your heart beats faster. After a long morning of searching, you’ve finally found what you were looking for. Camera in hand, you crouch behind a sagebrush and sink into the snow. Slowly, the moose steps out of the trees. His warm breath settles against his fur and forms tiny ice crystals along his nose. You raise your camera to your eye and hover your frozen finger above the shutter. Slowly, he lifts his head to sniff the frosty air. His antlers raise like a crown above his ears, snow falls gently from the tree branches overhead, and
