Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 651
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It was a joy simply to stretch out an arm, and feel the dry
winter grass slide past her fur. The sky was lovely to look at;
she would have liked to have rolled on her back, purring, to
gaze at the new sun the swans had made, just to absorb the
wonderful gradations of color that canopied it.
The hunt was even more enjoyable. For the moment, that
was where the white Wind kept her attention focussed. It was
hard, though, with all the wonderful distractions...
She prowled up the side of a rock-strewn hill, whose top
sported some scraggly, wind-sculpted trees. The land had
changed from desert to stony scrubland. A few human
shepherds brought their flocks here in summer, simply because
there was nowhere else for them to go, but nothing agricultural
would grow in this soil.
That meant there would be no human witnesses, no one
to interfere with the capture.
She lifted her muzzle and sniffed at the wind. She could
smell horses--of course, they were obvious kilometers away.
Now, though, she could also smell fresh-washed humans. Two
women and a man.
There was the faintest possibility that these were not the
ones she was looking for. She would have to risk a peek over
the top of the hill, and hope they didn't see her silhouetted
against the bruised horizon.
The white Wind was very good. They wouldn't see her.