BLACK and w h i t e is all I see.

Pain... it hurt, just everything seemed to hurt. In one way or another, that she couldn't really think of her family injuries now, or how tired and sore she was...or how she couldn't walk straight, or up right like how she normally would. She had to partly hop, her left leg not doing so well in her un-gentle efforts to somehow get away, far away. Far away from the meteor that happened of those short two years ago. Get away from all the wolves, but that didn't happen now did it? She could slowly make out the frosted over den, the green and the closed flower buds. Her white body almost blended in with the snow but you could almost see the black outline of her. Only the outline. She was pure ice with only the slightest tan smothering her. Grunting softly at the sight of the male watching her, she quickly turned her head to the sky. Adonica, with her stubborn ways, refused to go into the den with him.

Slowly she could begin to feel and imagine tender caressing fur around her, smothered in blankets of fur, in a place safe and warm. Where a contained fire blazed and her mother's singing voice would chime out sweet notes in angelic melodies. She would encourage her to join along in her song. If she had ever the chance, but there were many things one would not decide to do when they knew they were dying. 'Sing this one with me, Adoni. you have such a pretty voice,' she smiled, confidently.

"As the blackbird in the spring
'neath the willow tree
sat and piped
I heard him sing
praising Aura Lee.
Aura Lee, Aura Lee. Maid of golden hair
sunshine came along with thee and swallows in the air."

She sung, she howled, still deep within the memory. The wind tossed around and blew back her fur, while she walked on in memory with her lips unmoving. It seemed to be working as she could barely feel the cold anymore. Instead she felt real warm....and happy. If she could stare out into the blanket of thick white enough she could almost make out the garden; and see it come alive again like it did in the spring. She could see and touch the cold welted metal on her finger tips, it almost a bit sharp. She smiled childishly at the sensation before she looked around. It was almost unclear to her at that point what she really saw; the cold rush of winter, threatening to bury her and freeze her solid; yet it carried such a delicate grace of snowflakes; or the warm and brightly emerging colors and shapes of spring.

It's a silent movie
And I'm stick inside the s c e n e