'Some days, it still feels surreal. Like I am in a waking dream. But I've experienced things here I... I never could have dreamed them. It is a place beyond my imagination. And I haven't woken up yet.'
Her breath faltered, the weight of it all pressing against her chest. As much as this place felt distant, foreign, too vast for her to fully accept, she longed for...Belonging. It wasn’t something that could be short-cutted, manufactured, or forced—it was something real, rooted, earned. But she ached for it all the same. As much as she ached to find her family.
Deep down, she already knew the truth. She couldn’t go back. Hell, Takala had known it after three days here. And yet, the survivalist in her, the ever-resourceful Northerner, had begun to search for a way forward. A place within this vast, alien world wherein she had awoken.
To wake up from this place would be...
'I do not doubt you will'
The voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, and yet all she could do was sniff away the moisture that clung to her cold nose.
'If I may, do you remember how you got here, from wherever you were last?'
Takala blinked, willing the tears in her eyes to retreat before they fell. A small, fragile, almost incredulous smile tugged at her lips. "I... I had fallen asleep next to my husband," she began, her voice wavering as she reached for the memory. Her eyes, clouded with burden, drifted into apprehension. "...and next thing I knew, I woke up here—" She chuckled softly, though the sound was brittle and hollow, a fragile thread trying to hold her together. “It was a lot colder than the warmth of the den I’d fallen asleep in.”
Goes to show how different it is here than in the South...
For a moment, the lilac-gray she-wolf hesitated, searching for courage within the tremor of her voice. Slowly, with a breath that felt too sharp, she found her footing again. She steeled herself—not with a grand gesture or fiery determination, but with a prayer laden with her father's voice whispered only into the stillness of her core. Whatever this place was, she needed to remain strong—for herself, for the echoes of what she had lost, and for whatever lay ahead. "One day at a time", he would tell her.
"And you?" Her voice softened, the words a gentle offering. "Where are you from, originally?" Her eyes searched his curiously, the tuft of fur draped across her forehead resuming its bouncing rhythm as they continued pace.
Her breath faltered, the weight of it all pressing against her chest. As much as this place felt distant, foreign, too vast for her to fully accept, she longed for...Belonging. It wasn’t something that could be short-cutted, manufactured, or forced—it was something real, rooted, earned. But she ached for it all the same. As much as she ached to find her family.
Deep down, she already knew the truth. She couldn’t go back. Hell, Takala had known it after three days here. And yet, the survivalist in her, the ever-resourceful Northerner, had begun to search for a way forward. A place within this vast, alien world wherein she had awoken.
To wake up from this place would be...
'I do not doubt you will'
The voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, and yet all she could do was sniff away the moisture that clung to her cold nose.
'If I may, do you remember how you got here, from wherever you were last?'
Takala blinked, willing the tears in her eyes to retreat before they fell. A small, fragile, almost incredulous smile tugged at her lips. "I... I had fallen asleep next to my husband," she began, her voice wavering as she reached for the memory. Her eyes, clouded with burden, drifted into apprehension. "...and next thing I knew, I woke up here—" She chuckled softly, though the sound was brittle and hollow, a fragile thread trying to hold her together. “It was a lot colder than the warmth of the den I’d fallen asleep in.”
Goes to show how different it is here than in the South...
For a moment, the lilac-gray she-wolf hesitated, searching for courage within the tremor of her voice. Slowly, with a breath that felt too sharp, she found her footing again. She steeled herself—not with a grand gesture or fiery determination, but with a prayer laden with her father's voice whispered only into the stillness of her core. Whatever this place was, she needed to remain strong—for herself, for the echoes of what she had lost, and for whatever lay ahead. "One day at a time", he would tell her.
"And you?" Her voice softened, the words a gentle offering. "Where are you from, originally?" Her eyes searched his curiously, the tuft of fur draped across her forehead resuming its bouncing rhythm as they continued pace.
