Whiteout

 Emelda felt as if the howl's chill had pierced her clothes. She frowns, for a moment wondering if she should listen to Milo and Varen. But if the blizzard hit during the night the others would worry and try to venture out.

 She readies the knife in her grasp and shifts some weight onto her good leg. The beast's green eyes shine against the moonlight above. It's eyes glint and she launches forward at it. Her other arm changes as the beast opens it's mouth. It releases another blast that she narrowly avoids by leaping into the air above it's head, spinning down and slamming her beast hand down on top of its head. 

 The blade in her other hand lodges in it's eye. It shrieks, head thrashing and sending her tumbling. She feels her glove stiffening as ice forms over her glove. Emelda checks it briefly as she jumps to her feet. Ice had definitely formed at that moment. 

 The beast recovers, turning to her. Emelda pauses, heart sinking as her blood runs cold.