Fate seems happy in the winter meadow, almost absorbed and camouflaged in it. I had to look closely through the viewfinder to even see her, sometimes it seems she grew there out of the ground. She found some mice to pounce on and chase and then stool still, like a statue, soaking up the stories of the meadow, the sights, smells and sounds. I told Maria I think Fate is actually descended from hawks and other wild creatures.