She wasn’t sure what had happened, only that she had ended up here alone with the smell of her herdmates still in her nose. One minute, they had been huddling together during a storm--the next she was standing on the edge of a grey and frozen sea, staring out at the gulls and the mist.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered her mother telling her about mist like that: how it broke down the borders between worlds, how it was so thick you could swear you could feel it moving against you as you walked through it. It was unnatural, and she remembered the fog before the storm had hit. The rain had darkened the plateau until the occasional flash of lightning was the only source of light left.
Wolfmother shuddered, remembering that maybe the lightning wasn’t the only source of light--she’d never said anything because she didn’t want her herdmates to be afraid. The storm was already scary enough.
But it was gone now, along with everything she had ever known. She refused to move for the longest time, her breath fogging up the air before her until tiny crystals had fused to the long hair on her ash-colored muzzle. Finally, after the fog began to dissipate, she sighed one last time and turned away.
She had no idea where she was going, but she could not follow the fog where it was going--and she doubted that it would take her home, anyway.
something is going on here.
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