- Early afternoon, Mist - 9 ° F, -13 ° C
Snow swirled lazily from the sky, tiny flakes drifting through the cold like strays, unable to find rest anywhere. The ground underfoot was frozen solid, mostly covered by week old powder that had been stamped into an icy floor. Even the air itself seemed iced over, pale bluish fog obscuring the landscape, fading everything into nothingness within a few steps distance. Under these conditions, crossing the mountains was not exactly easy, and lay far from the smartest of choices for an afternoon stroll. And yet, a dark figure wove its way down the hillside from the snowy cliffs, paws barely leaving a mark on the hard surface. In many places, the snow had melted an refrozen, leaving slippery patches that could prove fatal to reckless travelers. And indeed, the raven wolf's eyes were turned down, carefully studying the ground ahead. His tour over the mountain had been long and straining, taking much longer than the last time he crossed the pass. Initially, setting out from the Bend, he had simply wanted the time alone, a good stretch of his legs and fresh air in his lungs. Yet as soon as he crossed the borders of his pack, his paws had taken him towards higher grounds; It seemed every time he stood at a crossroads in his life, he longed for the mountains, as if the familiarity of the highland would help ease his mind. As soon as he began climbing the snowy ridge, he knew the trek would be both exhausting and risky. And yet, rather than turning around, he had continued upwards, enjoying the hardship as it forced him to focus completely, chasing all other thoughts from his mind. Though, once he reached the crest, all his contemplations returned, and he was back where he started; Running from my problems! And he was nowhere near ready to face them. Winter might just be peaking, but to the dark man it felt like spring was just around the corner, and with it came all manner of worries and dreads. But he'd set out on this trek to free of them, at least for a couple of days, and so he continued onwards, braving the western side of the mountain pass. Now, as the sun had just passed its highest somewhere above the fog and clouds, he was leaving behind the last fragments of rock, jutting out from the ice and snow, crossing onto the flatter lands that were normally known as Fireweed Rise. At the moment though, the slope was nothing more than a field of white. Word count: 427 ”Speech” Thoughts |