Nettle’s paws hit the ground hard, her claws scraping against the soft earth as she pushed forward, the scent of fresh grass thick in the air and sweet in her nose. The warmth of the prairie brushed through her fur, the sun high overhead, its golden light spilling across the open space and over the trees and grass like liquid gold.

She was fast for her size, her small legs stretching out beneath her, muscles taut, rippling under brown fur, strong as she gave chase to the rabbit darting ahead. It was a good run, perfect even if she dared to say, the wind rushing past her ears, the thrill of the hunt bubbling in her chest and her lips curled into a pleased grin.

Her breath came in shallow bursts, her focus narrowing on the small hare as it zigzagged through the tall grass. She snapped at it, too slow, but she wasn’t too worried, it was the feeling, the freedom, she longed for. she had already eaten that morning.

Her heart raced, her fur whipping around her with every sprint.

The rabbit darted into a thick patch of underbrush. Nettle’s paws skidded in the dirt as she veered off course, her sharp eyes narrowing as she charged for the bush with a huff of hot air. With a burst of speed, she leapt through, the bushes scratching at her fur as she dove in after it. The world twisted as she sailed through the thicket, her body tumbling, only for her to slam into something hard and cold.

For a breathless second, she could barely comprehend what had happened. She blinked, disoriented, trying to push through the tangled branches only to feel a shock of… Ice on her paws. Her body shuddered, a coldness creeping up her spine that made her freeze.

The warmth of the prairie was gone.

Instead, her paws scraped against something unfamiliar, something cold. The ground was hard beneath her feet, the sharp chill biting into her skin. Confused, she staggered back, her head spinning, only to see the world around her shift, twist, and… It was frozen.

Snow. It fell in soft, heavy flakes, coating the trees with thick, white blankets. The once-soft and warm earth was now hardened into a sheet of ice, cracks forming beneath her paws as the wind howled. The trees, tall, dark, and covered in frost, looked foreign, their branches creaking with the weight of the cold, these were not her trees.

Nettle’s heart skipped a beat, she could feel it hammering hard in her chest, battering against her ribs. What was this? Where had the prairie gone, her home? She could still feel the burn in her legs, the memory of the chase thrumming through her, but now everything was wrong.

It couldn’t have been a dream, Nettle was imaginative, but it had felt real, it felt like spring on her skin, this was… this was all wrong

She blinked rapidly, her mind reeling. The air was thick with the scent of frost, of cold, of something alien. Her breath came out in a puff of white steam, and she shivered, the chill digging into her fur.

She didn’t understand. She didn’t—where was she? She tried to shake the disorientation from her mind, but her body didn’t want to move. The cold was slowing her down, clinging to her fur, seeping through her paws as if the world around her was trying to freeze her in place. She tried to turn around, to go back through the bush—but it wasn’t there. The warm grassland was gone, the sweet smelling grass only a memory.

She staggered, a paw reaching out for something solid, but everything was just a blur of snow and ice, the landscape unfamiliar in every direction. The trees didn’t feel like the ones she knew, the air didn’t taste the same. She whined, a pitiful noise that echoed in the stillness around her.

She blinked again, trying to regain her senses, but everything was… wrong. Her head pounded, the sudden shift of reality colliding with her mind in a violent wave of wrong, everything was just wrong. The icy air stung her eyes, making her squint against the biting cold. Her paws pressed deeper into the frost-covered ground, and the ache in her chest grew. frustration, a fear gnawing at her, she didn’t know how to explain it. She felt so lost, she hated it.

She tried to take a step forward, but the icy ground slid beneath her paws. Her claws dug into the snow-covered earth, but the movement felt unnatural, like she wasn’t meant to be here, like this wasn’t her world.

Her breath came quicker. Her heart thudded in her chest. Painfully. Stuttering.

Nettle whirled around again, looking for any sign of the prairie, any clue that she could find her way back. But all she saw was the endless forest, the thick snow swirling in the wind, the branches bending in the cold. She felt like she was going crazy.

The wind ruffled her fur, biting at her skin as her paws sunk deeper into the snow. She pressed forward, head low, paws moving without thinking. Her mind couldn’t keep up, couldn’t process it all. She needed to move, needed to understand, needed to fix this like she did everything else. The cold was suffocating her, curling inside her chest, pushing her to the brink of panic.

She pretended she wasn’t already panicking, because what the fuck.

She stopped. Her breath hitched in her throat, the sharp sting of the cold air scraping against the inside of her lungs and burned her nose. Her head was pounding now, the ache between her ears relentless, unbearable.

This didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

Where was her home? The flowers, the grass, the mountains high above her?

What had happened? Why was she here?

A low growl rumbled deep in her throat, a warning to herself more than anything. She couldn’t panic. Not now. Not yet. She needed to think. She needed to figure out what had happened.

There was something different about the air, she thought absently, something heavier, something different, like the world had folded into itself, like it was pressing her in from all sides. She backed away from the trees, the frost beneath her paws giving her no traction, the white world biting at her.

With a sharp gasp, she spun around again, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t just be trapped here. She needed to leave.

But where would she go?

Where could she go?

What the fuck?

Nettle’s breath came faster, shallow and frantic, as her paws dug at the snow, as if the earth itself might yield an answer. Her fur stood on end, not just from the chill but from the sense of disconnection crawling beneath her skin. It was wrong. Everything was wrong.

Her gaze snapped from tree to tree, her mind racing to make sense of the strange silence that seemed so loud surrounding her, the absence of the warm prairie hum. She had been so sure, so certain, one moment, running, her legs burning with  the chase, and then this. How? How had she ended up here? All she had wanted was that stupid hare.

Her body ached with the need to move, but it was a different kind of frenzy now. A frantic, panic-stricken kind of run. As if, if she just kept moving, if she could just outrun whatever force had pulled her here, maybe, just maybe, she could get back.

Her thoughts scattered pitifully, as if the very icy winds were scrambling her mind. 

All she saw was snow. Endless, suffocating snow. The trees stood silent, bare, their skeletal branches creaking under the weight of frost. The whole world felt empty. Or maybe it was her, a deep, heavy emptiness that clung to her chest and wrapped around her ribs like a serpent and pulled tighter until she could barely expand her lungs.

The thought flickered in her mind, fleeting but sharp. What if there was no way back? What if the warm prairie, her home, was all her imagination? What if this was life, and she was crazy?

Her claws scraped the ground again, digging into the ice beneath her. A sharp, frustrated growl vibrated in her chest once again, and she kicked snow up with her paws, the sharp flakes stinging her face. She wasn’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t where she belonged. She knew this.

She stumbled back a few paces, her eyes wide. Her head was pounding again, sharper this time, and she swayed on her paws, trying to hold herself steady.

Nettle’s breath was a cloud in front of her face, and she sniffed the air, the cold sharp and biting in her nose. There was something wrong with the scent. Something—familiar? No, not familiar. Unfamiliar. This was all unfamilisr in a way she couldn’t handle.

Everything was wrong, it was all wrong.

The ground beneath her shifted once again, the snow creaking, as though it was alive too, as if it knew she wasn’t supposed to be here, and suddenly the world felt too small, like the very snow had eyes on her every move.

Her ears flicked back, and she backed up a few more steps, then pivoted quickly to glance around again.

She didn’t like the feeling. Didn’t like it at all.

You’re not supposed to be here, she heard again, the snow, the trees, the very wind that sung a tune so foreign to her ears.

Nettle’s eyes darted to the trees, it was too much. Too overwhelming. The cold was sinking into her core now, a deep, penetrating cold, and it made her want to shake herself apart, as if it had seeped into her very bones.

A low whine slipped from her throat before she could stop it, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the panic away, willing herself to focus.

She had to think. She couldn’t just fall apart. Not here, not like this.

But every direction felt wrong. Every step was more uncertain than the last. Her claws scraped against the ice, her muscles tight as she tried to steady herself.

She turned back to the bush she had come through, desperately hoping, praying that the path would reopen, that she could go back. But as her eyes settled on the thicket where she had leapt through, there was nothing. No sign of the familiar grass. No indication of the world she had just left behind.

She stepped forward, hesitation turning her paws to lead, and reached out with a trembling paw, trying to push through the space where the bush had been. Nothing. Nothing but the cold, frozen world on the other side.

Nettle froze. Her head was spinning. Her ears rang. Her pulse thudded in her chest, the beat too loud for her mind to handle. No. No, no, no.

She pawed frantically at the empty air, as if trying to shove her way back into the space she knew, as if, maybe, the air would open up. She pushed at the frozen ground beneath her, claws dragging helplessly over the ice. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how life worked.

Her breath hitched again. The pounding in her head intensified, her vision blurring. She felt as if the very ground beneath her was buckling, shifting, twisting in ways it shouldn’t.

Her stomach churned. Her mind felt thick, heavy, as if the very thoughts she had were being smothered.

Nettle whined again, louder this time, the sound more desperate, more frantic. She backed up, spun in place, her paws scrabbling for purchase as she tried to steady herself. She had to get out of here. She had to fix it. She couldn’t stay like this.

She couldn’t be stuck here.

Nettle’s legs trembled beneath her, and her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, the cold air stinging her lungs with each inhale. The pounding in her head was now a steady, rhythmic throb, dull and insistent, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that the ground beneath her might swallow her whole if she stood still too long.

With a low, frustrated growl, she sank to her belly, curling up next to the bush. She pressed her paws over her eyes, as if trying to block out the world entirely, like maybe if she hid long enough things would be normal, hoping that when she opened them again, things would make sense, that the world would somehow align with the one she knew. But when she blinked, nothing changed. The snow still piled high around her. The trees still towered above.

Her breath hitched, then a long, shaky exhale escaped her. She pulled her paws tighter against her face, squeezing her eyes shut harder, trying to push out the world, trying to force herself into a moment of peace, even as she felt each flake of snow and each gust of wind speak in a language she didn’t understand.

Frustration gnawed at her insides, sharper than the cold. She hated feeling lost. Hated the way this place felt alien, like the universe itself had twisted her out of place, The wind laughed at her, it howled in a high-pitched sound that sunk into her mind uncomfortably, and she shifted.

She opened her eyes briefly, just to glance at the snow around her, as if hoping to see the prairie stretching out, familiar. Of course, it wasn’t there. Just more white. More cold. Her heart sank lower. She wanted to scream. She wanted to do something, anything, to snap this feeling out of her, to force the wprld back to where it should be.

Her paws twitched, wanting to move, wanting to run, but her muscles felt stiff, as though they didn’t quite belong to her anymore. She couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t focus on anything except the frustration in her chest, and the pulse of panic that couldn’t seem to let up.

Nettle let out a quiet whine, barely a sound at all, and curled up tighter, trying to shield herself as best as she could. Her mind raced with too many questions, too many fears, and not a single answer.

She pulled her paws away from her eyes, her head swimming with a dull ache, and stared at the icy ground in front of her. The snowflakes drifted down lazily, caught in the breeze, but their presence felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. She didn’t belong here.

She didn’t know how to sweet-talk her way out of this problem, she didn’t know. She didn’t know.