The sun was setting on a generally uneventful winter day. There was a fresh blanket of snow on the ground from earlier that day that seemed to sparkle as the sun slowly moved on the horizon. This reminded her of the nights she would lie awake in her attic bedroom when she was little and stare at the snow, entranced by the sparkling beauty that resembled the night sky. Nattaly Movan was just settling down for the night but had to do her routine of climbing the giant oak in the center of the forest she had called her home for several years now, searching for any uninvited guests. She perched herself gently on a branch and looked over the trees being yet again mystified by the snow's beauty along the tree tops, her glowing crimson eyes seeming to pierce the darkness that was flooding over the area. With a heavy sigh she sat on the exposed limb that caused her trench coat to hang below it a bit. A cold breeze went through the air and her hair flowed with it. She laid back against the trunk and relaxed a bit. She was clothed in a black trench coat that, to her small figure, covered her well, she wore torn blue jeans, a white tank top and black combat boots. Quietly she began to hum to herself in a state of relaxation and peace. Her peace was interrupted by the pained cries of an elk not too far from her. She at first stood trying to find the animal but couldn't. It wasn't until they abruptly stopped that she began to worry, the hairs on her neck began to stand on end, her body shiver, and she jumped down from her tall perch, landing softly on the new fallen snow creating nothing more than a light thud and some footprints. With that, she began moving in the shadows and within the trees, searching for the obviously skilled hunter and the hunted.