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The Creature had a friend.

The friend a small thing - not as small as the creature, but still likely too small to be away from his kind. Where the Creature had fur, its companion did not. Its companion compensated for this with the furs of other creatures - mainly edible ones, like deer or rabbits. Those lives often doubled as food and makeshift fur, where if the Creature had been left to their own devices, they'd have served only as a meal.

Its friend was resourceful in that way.

The two of them were surrounded on all sides by tundra, endless and unforgiving. As the earth tipped and winter took hold, both food and furs were harder to come by, and the Creature and its friend were getting thinner.

Hungrier.

The Creature's friend spoke to it in a soft voice, petted its fur with gentle, hairless paws, cloaked in skin of other creatures. Its friend was sorry, but the Creature could not figure out why that was. They both went to sleep that night, just like they had hundreds of times before.

This time, its friend was sad. The Creature could tell. He missed his family. He was frightened. He was hungry.

He was sorry.

The Creature was sorry, too. It could not find its friend's family, try as it might. Nothing else lived near them except for the rare deer, bear, or creatures like the Creature with their howls and their packs.

The Creature wondered if it had ever had a pack.

It couldn't remember.

Somewhere in the night, its friend stopped breathing. Remained still in a way only the departed could be. The Creature had little energy left for emotion, but its chest felt empty as it nuzzled against its friend, tried to bring warmth to his frozen body.

It fell asleep, and would not wake up again.

...

And then it woke up, regardless, to a world not so cold. Memories of its friends face slipped through its paws like melting snow, and it stood, golden eyes round and panic flitting in its chest.

It tried to speak. It could not.

Where had he gone? The Creature made a warbling sound, hoarse and quiet, as though it hadn't made sound in a long time. Maybe it hadn't. It couldn't remember.

It couldn't remember much of anything.

There was an emptiness that followed the realization, shocking as if someone had dumped ice water over its head.

Where had it woken up? Why could it not remember?
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The world had changed overnight, it felt.

Where had the Cove gone? Looking off into the horizon from Empyrean brought new views—and Hydra could not rationalize this, except to think that her mind was playing tricks upon her.

With word to her family the matriarch set off to explore the lands beyond. It was unlike her, to wish to go alone… but with so much missing, she could not risk any other Empyrean wolf being put at risk until she had a better understanding of what was going on.

The foothills were nearest. The animals wandering were massive, and would likely make for good hunting. She thought of @West Tyree and of @Leta who would likely be pleased to learn of the herds here.

But it was not the wildlife she sought, though she instinctively tracked their movements. Her keen eye fell upon a being that lay upon the earth… dead? No, it made some terrible racket, and Hydra felt her hackles rise. The Ostrega looked around them for danger, the thing she anticipated caused such an alarming sound to come from him, lowering herself slowly to the earth.

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