The footbridge over the frozen creek rested quietly under a blanket of fresh fallen snow. Under that it was also encased in an armor of well-trod hard-packed ice.

As she thundered across the bridge, Kelty misjudged the relationship between gription and shliptivity, her bare feet skidding, sending her falling gracelessly onto her bottom.

Tears mounted the hills of her blushing cheeks, ready to charge forward once more.

Careful, the Voice warned.

"You're not helping," Kelty growled under her breath.

This close to town, she had to be careful in this sort of private parley.