01-16-2025, 02:37 AM
![[Image: hrJcnHe.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/hrJcnHe.gif)
The immediate, heavy sound of siren-like ringing shook her consciousness, like the deafening shatter of breaking glass—sharp, jarring. It reverberated relentlessly, crawling deep into her mind, sending waves of pressure that thrummed and pulsed within her skull. Piercing wails of a surging wind struck her, an intense, hollow whistle slicing past her ears, accompanied by the cold bite of icy shards that tore through her like an unwavering storm. She felt exposed, raw, as a spiral of freezing air coiled around her, forcing her body into an involuntary shiver to regain warmth. It was impossible to tell how long she had been lying there, motionless. Her limbs refused to respond, her eyes sealed shut as though her body had abandoned her will. The comfort of darkness was almost too enticing to leave—it felt like an afterlife, still and infinite. Despite the harsh nature outside, she found true serenity here, behind the walls of what lay ahead.
But she couldn’t stay there. Something tugged at her—some innate survival instinct, urging her forward. With great effort, she let her eyelids relax.
A searing light broke through the veil, stabbing directly into her eyes. White-hot and unrelenting, it burned her vision, tearing a cry from her throat. She snapped her eyes shut again, her hands—or at least, what should have been her hands—moving to shield her face. The motion felt alien, wrong. Ignoring the discomfort, she forced herself to peek. The world came into focus, hazy at first, then stark and bright. Snow blanketed everything in sight, an endless expanse of white, broken only by jagged mountain peaks stabbing into the horizon.
Where the hell am I? she thought, squinting as she tilted her head. She was perched on a slope, lying so peacefully in the depths of the snow, angled downward as though gravity itself wanted her to slip away.
When did it snow? The question came with an edge of absurdity, given the strangeness of her situation. Cairolette hated winter, hated the cold months that stole the warmth from her bones. As far as she knew, her hometown wasn’t due for this kind of icy hell—not now, not ever. And this? This wasn’t her hometown. There were no mountains near her house. No endless woods like this. Nothing felt familiar. But one thing she knew with absolute certainty was that this wasn’t a dream. This was real. The wind stung her face. Her breath clouded the air. This wasn’t the afterlife, either. It was here. It was now.
And something about her was wrong.
A scent drifted to her, sharp and vivid in a way it had never been before: pine, wet and crisp from the ice. Beneath that, damp earth churned by the wind, and the faint musk of small animals nearby. The clarity stunned her. She shouldn’t have been able to smell that. Not like this.
And then she saw it—her snout.
Dipping her head in disbelief, her gaze trailed down to the rest of her body: fur, dark and sleek, a storm of grays and silvers with faint flecks of white. Ink-dark paws pressed into the snow, and her tail, long and mist-like, swayed in the wind. No fuckin’ way. She blinked, but the sight didn’t change. She was still there, still this. Whatever this was.
A voice—quiet, yet unmistakably her own—whispered in the back of her mind. Get up.
Her instincts surged to life. She had to move. The snow clung to her like a heavy shroud, and the cold was beginning to creep deeper, seeping into her limbs. Her fur wasn’t thick enough for this; she could feel the frost biting at her paws, numbing her extremities. There were no footprints around her. No signs of how she’d come to be here. It was as if she’d been placed in this crater, abandoned to wake in the middle of nowhere.
And she was pissed.
Whatever had happened, whoever had done this, she’d find a way to survive. She didn’t care how cold it was or how impossible it seemed. She wasn’t going to lie here and freeze.
She’d be damned if she didn’t fight her way out of this.
But she couldn’t stay there. Something tugged at her—some innate survival instinct, urging her forward. With great effort, she let her eyelids relax.
A searing light broke through the veil, stabbing directly into her eyes. White-hot and unrelenting, it burned her vision, tearing a cry from her throat. She snapped her eyes shut again, her hands—or at least, what should have been her hands—moving to shield her face. The motion felt alien, wrong. Ignoring the discomfort, she forced herself to peek. The world came into focus, hazy at first, then stark and bright. Snow blanketed everything in sight, an endless expanse of white, broken only by jagged mountain peaks stabbing into the horizon.
Where the hell am I? she thought, squinting as she tilted her head. She was perched on a slope, lying so peacefully in the depths of the snow, angled downward as though gravity itself wanted her to slip away.
When did it snow? The question came with an edge of absurdity, given the strangeness of her situation. Cairolette hated winter, hated the cold months that stole the warmth from her bones. As far as she knew, her hometown wasn’t due for this kind of icy hell—not now, not ever. And this? This wasn’t her hometown. There were no mountains near her house. No endless woods like this. Nothing felt familiar. But one thing she knew with absolute certainty was that this wasn’t a dream. This was real. The wind stung her face. Her breath clouded the air. This wasn’t the afterlife, either. It was here. It was now.
And something about her was wrong.
A scent drifted to her, sharp and vivid in a way it had never been before: pine, wet and crisp from the ice. Beneath that, damp earth churned by the wind, and the faint musk of small animals nearby. The clarity stunned her. She shouldn’t have been able to smell that. Not like this.
And then she saw it—her snout.
Dipping her head in disbelief, her gaze trailed down to the rest of her body: fur, dark and sleek, a storm of grays and silvers with faint flecks of white. Ink-dark paws pressed into the snow, and her tail, long and mist-like, swayed in the wind. No fuckin’ way. She blinked, but the sight didn’t change. She was still there, still this. Whatever this was.
A voice—quiet, yet unmistakably her own—whispered in the back of her mind. Get up.
Her instincts surged to life. She had to move. The snow clung to her like a heavy shroud, and the cold was beginning to creep deeper, seeping into her limbs. Her fur wasn’t thick enough for this; she could feel the frost biting at her paws, numbing her extremities. There were no footprints around her. No signs of how she’d come to be here. It was as if she’d been placed in this crater, abandoned to wake in the middle of nowhere.
And she was pissed.
Whatever had happened, whoever had done this, she’d find a way to survive. She didn’t care how cold it was or how impossible it seemed. She wasn’t going to lie here and freeze.
She’d be damned if she didn’t fight her way out of this.
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