Fresh snow is often an ideal medium on which diverse passages may be recorded and revealed, though their makers may remain mysterious unless actually witnessed. In this case, paw-prints are fairly distinct, but the rest? Sweeping tail, run-on landing, violent sneeze?
And more of same,
for a short span resolving into a reasonably coherent trail, possibly of a small fox, large raccoon or one of the few remaining feral cats.
While too blurred for a positive identification, toe marks at least indicate (unless the wily one had its shoes on backward) direction of motion. Back up-trail a few feet is the imprint of commotion: with only one set of prints exiting, reflecting either air-to-ground combat or a single-body collision of some kind.
Looking yet further back and up reveals the misadventure, if not identity, of the sojourner. An optimistic stroll from rough woods, hopping over a plow berm onto the apparently easier passage of a paved way, where fresh powder conceals slick ice:
Disorienting and embarrassing, perhaps, but apparently without serious consequences. We should all be so lucky—and perhaps, as relatively brittle organisms with further to fall, more cautious.