It had come to hazy consciousness at the edge of a forest, the mountain in all its deathly glory looming in the distance. It didn't remember running, though clearly it had — its body's last ditch, desperate effort to persist in the face of what would've surely been a painful demise. Though, the memory of its impossible encounter at the peak was already fading, slipping lifelessly from its paws. Its mouth twisted. It didn't forget.

There were still traces of the cloying, purple snow streaked through its fur, indisputable evidence that everything it had experienced — the acid river and the odd miasma — were not simply the result of some horrible hallucination. Though, waking up had felt a lot like stirring from a particularly lucid dream. It still felt the pull, even now, but its body was weak, its head pounding, and would most certainly not survive the trek back up.

It rested, now, tucked comfortably away in a small patch of undergrowth while time passed and its body grew strong once more. It listened to the steady rumble of the rain against its back and the rustle of some nearby creature and huffed, lazily, into the hot and humid air.