When they started their journey, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The air was cool and crisp, the day awash in the pale yellows and pinks and blues of an early winter morning. Normally, the massive herd wouldn’t be travelling so late in the year, having taken to the seas in droves in fall, but the circumstances just hadn’t worked out that way this time. They had no choice, now: there was no way their little slice of the mainland could support them through the colder months, and they had known nothing else for generations but to winter in warmer climates. It was baked into their bones, as natural for them as breathing.

And so, that day, Hyori swam surrounded by her flock, an endless stream of pale, black-tipped bodies cutting through the dark navy blue of the ocean. For a while, it was as it always had been: peaceful and full of excited anticipatory chatter, if a little colder than normal. White clouds scudded overhead, thick and fluffy, and she felt at ease amongst her family and friends.

Hours passed. The clouds above turned steely, then deep gunmetal, and a frigid gust picked up, scoring against her exposed wet skin. The waves, once calm and easy, began to churn back and forth, jerking the flock so that they bumped into each other and twisted to face the wrong direction. The size of the swells increased, up and down… and it wasn’t long before, with the crashing of the surf and the high whistle of the wind filling her ears, her brethren slowly began to disappear beneath the surface. Hyori struggled hopelessly against the current as the swarm around her spread out, then disappeared entirely. The waves pulled up, grabbing at her slim form, and as they came crashing down they pushed her so far under the water that the force of it made her see stars. Trapped, trying to breathe and inhaling only salt water, Hyori writhed helplessly. Within seconds she fell unconscious.

They were many, and then few, and then one, and then, just like that… nothing.

-

Thick pewter clouds cover the sky above the northern shores of the Lagoon. The sea, too, remains choppy and brackish, the rich grey waves laced with intricate loops of white seafoam. The air is cold, truly cold, the kind of thick chill that promises more to come, and flakes of snow drift feather-light to the ground, powdering the grass that reaches out to meet the sand. This, one of winter’s first, earliest snowfalls, drapes the land in a thick downy blanket of quiet, absorbing what little sound remains. Most of the life that hasn’t gone into hibernation has bedded down for the day, secure in their shelter.

All except for one.

Hyori’s wet body lays curled on the sand, ten or twenty feet from the water’s edge. Her long, dark legs splay beneath her, weeping with scrapes and cuts; a deep crimson path trails from the waves to where she now lays, having dragged herself to shore. Her elegant face lays careless against the rough grains of sand at the ground, tear tracks streaking new paths through her pale fur. Her thin shoulders shiver, both from the cold and from the sobs coursing through her body, anguish made real by the hot breath that fogs from her flared nostrils and her slightly parted lips.

After a moment, Hyori raises her head. Frantically she looks around, seeing no other bodies washed ashore with her, and her breath grows even more shallow in her chest as panic sets in. Wherever she is, it’s not the summerlands. It’s somewhere freezing cold, full of strange sights and smells, and she is completely, utterly alone, not one single member of her flock with her.

Snow cascades down around her. Little white flecks stick to the sopping tangles of her thick mane and tail, clinging to her coal-black lashes as she throws her head up and unleashes a keening cry. There she stays, naked and vulnerable, unable to help herself and maybe unwilling to, wailing and encapsulated in the grief and heartbreak and suffering of losing everything and everyone you have ever known and loved.