Winter, of the moving kind

The clouds rolled in, slowly from the east to winter in the mountains beyond Kizzle-Dobo. Their low, rambling path left traces of cloud in the rocks along the foothills, like cotton candy caught on the jagged rocks and pulled slowly away from the billow that dragged along. The heat of the day melted the wisps into streams of snow, and they rested in the low points between boulders and the cliff’s edge. The snow would be gone within the week, sublimating to join the winter air and the mountaintops above.