A stucco-and-cobb cottage sat neatly in the middle of clearing, white snow highlighting careful carvings in the side surface and the lip of the thatch roofing. A handful of paces before the cottage, a moderate plot of earth lie with the obvious signs of clearing and tending for a winter garden. Two paces away from and beside the cottage, a wood-fired kiln sat, a thin curl of black smoke rising from its peak into the sky. Another small cobb building sat two more paces beyond the kiln.
From under an extended overhang on the cottage, a wax jute flap bulged before sliding to the side. From behind it, a matronly vixen stepped out into the snow with a soft crunch. Shivering for a moment, she pulled the brown shawl she wore tighter around her and trundled into the other small building. After a moment, she stepped back out into the open, several small pieces of timber carried in her arms.
With only the soft crunching of snow, the vixen stepped over to the kiln. Setting the wood down, she wrapped a paw in her shawl and pulled open the door. “Mmmm… Probably not done yet,” she mused aloud, eyes peering into the orange-glow. With a sigh, she knelt before the heated edifice and started to gingerly feed the wood into the flames.
One of the vixen's ears perked to noise. She ceased adding wood to and fanning the fire. “You can come out now,” she called out to whomever was there. “You needn't fear an old vixen like me.”