ooc; of coarse! lol. okay, well i mean um no...not intentionally. ;) ic; The mountain beeze teased at her eyesfumbling through the light gray hairs. She inahled the sweet tonic, loving the coolness it brought. Each flow of oxygen blowing life into her cells. Today was a good day...at least for the time. She didn't have huge plans, except for one you could say. That was finding someone on this mountain she didn't know, which could have been about anyone. Nothing to kill her good spirit, she started at the pack den area, but low and behold no one was there. Well, she hadn't counted on this being that easy. Snorting, to herself she brushed her nose along the broken paths. The mix of everything, new, old, and everybody was a bit much to simply pick one and following. Brows wrinkling, she reclined to her haunches pondering. Where, or where should she look? Hmm, jumping up, she started trotting around, heading up higher to get a good look. When she first had climbed to the Plateua she had not been ready to go much higher. Weeks later she was comfertable, and gaining the sense of things. Where to step, where she could sleep, search, and certainly where to keep away from. Least till she was more confident in her stride. She casually looked out past the valley use to the drop, and stretch of land before her. She had studied the cut of the water, and the twisting woodlands. She to had noticed the dead patch of the wildwood, but had not asked someone about it. It was obvious fire had came, but she was not ready to know the story. Having a sense it could not be a light-hearted tale. A partial breath, she pushed herself to keep moving. Someone had to be around here somewhere, and she'd wander all day till she found them. Determined, paws clambered against rock, and snow. Half the time she was crawling, and the other she would leap from stone to stone like surefooted prey. Tired, not yet, instead the movement brought more blood to her limbs, an alertness, and rush keeping her going. She had not yet noticed how high her pounces were taking her. That was till she went leaping over the top of a ledge, and landed into a clump of flesh. lost your balance on a tight rope. never to late to get it back.

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All of a sudden, the ground was torn from underneath her. Except, that wasn't right. Being so high up on this mountain meant that there was still a mind boggling amount of ground below her. And it was rushing at her so eagerly, calling out to her, ready to meet her with a brutal, sickening kiss. Or smack. Flailing and turning about in the air, Ozera just barely caught the gleam of those two eyes, set in that smear of white, one dark blue, the other, radiant yellow. There was a fearful, uncertain pang in her chest as she stared into them helplessly. It felt like a knife in her back.



Ozera's body finally hit a ledge. Or maybe the knife in my back are these rocks. But that would be the last sliver of humor as she realized that gravity was yet not done with her. After colliding with this ledge, she found herself rolling off, hitting another. Always was this downward motion. Spires of stone scraped at her body, bludgeoning her chest and head and legs. It took only three blows to her head before she slipped away into the darkness of unconsciousness, a deep sleep that pulled the hood over her eyes and she slid, fell, fumbled, down the mountainside, dragged by this evil force of gravity. Oh how she would have hated the laws of physics if she could have even thought at all.



Finally, a ledge wide and long enough caught her in it's sturdy, craggy arms and cradled her. Hours laters, in the pitch black of night, she would awake, utterly bewildered, groggy, with the roar of pain and soreness coming from her body. Slowly, Ozera tried to piece together what had happened, but all she could remember was falling, falling, down the rabbit hole. One moment she had been Queen of the World, and now she was down here, somewhere just above the treeline. But she could no longer ignore the desperate cry from her lips, the aching soreness and... some kind of pain that was much deeper than that. If she had possessed any medical knowledge, she would have known that she had cracked three lips, broken her left fore-leg, and received a very severe concussion. Other than that, she was a furry of scrap blood and bruises in the vague shape of a wolf.


Besides the underlying self-preservation instincts that dogged her mind's every move was one thought: I need to get out of here. No longer did she feel safe living on this mountain. But that was all there was to this thought, only superficial, primitive desire to sustain her life. To her, that meant getting off this mountain —the sooner the better. Bicolored eyes and monoliths haunted her wakefulness now as she was reduced to a writhing, desperate creature. Gone was the thought of home, gone was the hope of living here, no where in sight was the worry that she would offend anyone by her leaving. She had been a lone wolf for over half her life: she knew how to put herself first and knew when to do it. Ozera simply could not live here.



Slowly, painfully, over the course of the next few days, Ozera slowly dragged herself down the mountainside. When she was thirsty, there was no end in sight of snow, and she feasted on it ravenously. For real sustenance, though, she had nothing. Luckily, she had eaten recently before her fall, and that made it easier on her. The more distance she put between her and the mountain, the hungrier she got, and her head began to clear. This made her scared. Before, driven only on instincts, she didn't have to think or worry about anything. Now, she was terrified about the fact that she could not put any weight on her left leg, and that it hurt to breath, and that she still had a roaring headache. She was so afraid of what was wrong with her.


Out of the fog from the back of her mind, though, she heard a voice, warm and sturdy. It whispered in her ears and tickled her mind. It was the only hope she had, and she would not let go of it.


Done

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