1/9/2025, 6:16 PM
The air was heavy. Cold, bitter, and unmoving.
His vision was black. He couldn’t move. Unfamiliar scents greeted his sinuses, washing away all familiarity. As he stirred, the heat within him began to spread, tethering his ligaments and sinew until will ordained movement.
Pure instinct pried him from the darkness. His vision was no longer awash with nothingness; instead, it became blurry and fractured as if he were seeing the world manifest into ripples of color. Shapes began to materialize—hazy, indistinct forms that evolved with each blink, teasing clarity but never fully granting it. What was once a void became a deep purple. He was finally conscious.
For how long was he out?
Shaking forcefully, a heap of snow was thrust away in all directions, powdery clouds expelling from his fur and face.
Rhydian blinked.
Surrounding him was a blanket of white, not too dissimilar from where he had been last. And yet, the area had an alien scent. The treeline around the mountain was also sparser than before. Although faint, he scented territory scent posts, other wolves, and other miscellaneous fauna. For now, that had to wait. Rhydian swiftly pivoted his gaze to his icy captor-- a mound of snow piled high, a near-perfect indention wherein his body had once occupied. How did that happen?
Wait—Wasn’t there another wolf right in front of him before?
Beside his was another pile of snow and ice, smaller, but unquestionably distinct in shape to safely assume she had been trapped under the snow as well. Perhaps there had been an avalanche? Or a sudden storm? How long were they unconscious, then, if the scents of the area had changed? He had so many questions buzzing in his brain like an angry hive that the occurrences just hours ago had taken a lesser place in his mind. Without much thought, Rhydian rushed to the smaller pile of snow, desperately clawing at its surface to free the she-wolf.
His vision was black. He couldn’t move. Unfamiliar scents greeted his sinuses, washing away all familiarity. As he stirred, the heat within him began to spread, tethering his ligaments and sinew until will ordained movement.
Pure instinct pried him from the darkness. His vision was no longer awash with nothingness; instead, it became blurry and fractured as if he were seeing the world manifest into ripples of color. Shapes began to materialize—hazy, indistinct forms that evolved with each blink, teasing clarity but never fully granting it. What was once a void became a deep purple. He was finally conscious.
For how long was he out?
Shaking forcefully, a heap of snow was thrust away in all directions, powdery clouds expelling from his fur and face.
Rhydian blinked.
Surrounding him was a blanket of white, not too dissimilar from where he had been last. And yet, the area had an alien scent. The treeline around the mountain was also sparser than before. Although faint, he scented territory scent posts, other wolves, and other miscellaneous fauna. For now, that had to wait. Rhydian swiftly pivoted his gaze to his icy captor-- a mound of snow piled high, a near-perfect indention wherein his body had once occupied. How did that happen?
Wait—Wasn’t there another wolf right in front of him before?
Beside his was another pile of snow and ice, smaller, but unquestionably distinct in shape to safely assume she had been trapped under the snow as well. Perhaps there had been an avalanche? Or a sudden storm? How long were they unconscious, then, if the scents of the area had changed? He had so many questions buzzing in his brain like an angry hive that the occurrences just hours ago had taken a lesser place in his mind. Without much thought, Rhydian rushed to the smaller pile of snow, desperately clawing at its surface to free the she-wolf.
