One year. One year since the deaths of Fenrir and Natu, my beloved parents.

I had been scarce in the last few seasons. Intent on my learning and training and raising of Feather. She was a good companion and warmed my heart considerably. I had told her just this morn that I would be visiting Diveen to seek out our sister, Ankh. Word had been lacking among our family and I worried for her. She had been heartbroken, we all had, but she had taken it especially hard and I had been negiligent in checking up on her. A healer worried not only for the body but also for the mind and the soul, so I set out now with my bag, made of beaver intestines, filled with herbs.

Just in case I came across someone in need of help.

I picked an awful day for it. I realize that as I am delving deeper into the fields and the stone gray sky seems to swirl then, on a hush, snow begins to fall. The ground was already packed with snow from a recent blizzard and I had been fool enough to forget that the pathes out here wouldn't be near as clear as those in the packlands. Already struggling, things only got worse. As the blizzard set in and erased all sense of direction, the ground seemed to rise and shift beneath my paws.

A few times I caught myself shivering for this weather could pierce the thick outer layer of fur swiftly. I press on in the direction of Diveen, or what I think is the direction, but as I take another step my foot falls forward into a hole and my head jolts down into the snow, jaw snapping shut as it jolts against a rock. I can taste blood in my mouth where my teeth bit into my tongue; my medicine bag has slipped and been swallowed and my bones ache in my face. I whimper, pressing up with my other paw only to find mine stuck.

Truly, I should remain calm. It is probably an easy fix, but I am struck by how fast the snow is piling over me and that my head is barely breaching the air. I can't help the panic that sets in and I begin to bark and howl, in desperate need of help. Or calm. Whichever comes first.