Writing Exercise?

I don't have a title for this piece. Just wrote down whatever came to mind for an hour. Suggestions are welcome. Hope it is a little enjoyable.

The vast valley is vacant and silent, save the distant hoot of an owl. No sign of the Rabbits, deer and foxes that would normally roam the fields. Not a single bird in the sky. Nothing around for miles except snow covered ground, and a gentle snowfall was all that remained from the blizzard that just subsided.  With a groan, a woman emerges from the abandoned fox hole where they sheltered the storm and begins trudging ever so slowly in the knee high snow. She is wrapped in an old puffy snowsuit, although large, it is patched in multiple places and is barely keeping her warm. In the distance was the ice capped peak of a single massive crescent shaped mountain that was her destination. Today would be her only chance to reach Mound's Mountain. The icy snow makes her hands and feet burn with a painful numbing effect. She fights to stumble along as fast and as far as she can, despite tears running from her emerald green eyes.  

She finally reaches the foot of the mountain and the small cave that leads into its depths. She coughs up a bit of blood, she had little time to admire the scenery.

It is surprisingly dry inside; the crisp clean air is soothing to her otherwise numb senses. An inviting breeze comes from within. She loses her footing many times on the sloped floors. The path splits, looking to the walls she finds some ancient writing. It is rather long and verbose, but listed the exact path she would need to take. Going deeper her eyes strain to see anything in the ever increasing darkness, and has to rely on her already weakened sense of tough. Soon the rocks and dirt beneath her feet became flatter and easier to traverse as she meandered even deeper into the maze. It was now so dark, the only way she could navigate was from the sporadic ancient markings on the wall that told her she was going the right way. 

An hour in, the floors became even and stable and she could feel the cobblestone beneath her. Torches on the walls flickered to life. before her. The hallway before her had seen better days, the tapestries on the walls and the red carpet on the floors were covered in a thick layer of dust. The marble floors beneath her feet had not seen a mop or wax in nearly a millennium. Even the ornate wooden doors at the far end of the hall was clearly in need of repair with one askew on its hinges and the other missing its knocker.  In the center of the room beyond the doors is a tiny marble pedestal with an oddly massive crystal moon sitting on top of it. This crystal is the ancient altar of the moon goddess.

“I am Melora, Luna of the Blood Crescent City.” A woman appears on top of the crystal. Her long silver hair covers her entire form save a single pitch black eye gazing into her soul with venom.

“Yes. Your city and their neighbors are full of traitors. They have killed many of my blessed in rebellion to me.”

“I am not here to atone for their sins. I seek a blessing.”

“You wish to have me bless you? Your body is so weak”

“I have made my way to the most remote altar of the continent in this ‘weak’ vessel.”

“Your determination and resolve are noted. But that is not enough a reason for me to choose for you a blessing”

“I have already been chosen by you!” Mystica opens her hand to show an intricate scar in the shape of a fan.

She gazes into the mark on her hand “Yes I recognize this mark. I had my love curse this mark to protect the person it was bestowed to. Seems like it worked, barely.”

“Cursed?”

“This mark that labels you an Alpha is the mark of a special Vulpine. Had you had a blessing, your 'people' would have killed you the second you transformed at 8 years old.”

“You mean 18?”

“Werefoxes are a little… special in how they operate.” 

“So I will have a lot of catching up to do then?”

“You amuse me. I can see why you were chosen. Come for your blessing.”