The wind seemed stronger to her now that she stood in the direct path of its assault directly. It felt colder than before; each year seemed to. The ice grew thicker with the snow, and the wind more violent. She lowered her head and moved on, her paws sore and frozen, her nose stinging at the chill covering her. Her heart felt warm still, but that was about it.
She stopped and sat herself down. She saw nothing before her but snow and ice, the same sight that had been there for miles, or what she assumed to be miles. Her stomach growled relentlessly and she felt it churning about inside her; she hadn't eaten in a few days nor had she drank aside from the white crystals that melted in her mouth. She hadn't slept in a while either, so her body felt as if it had been tied to pieces of lead and dropped into an empty abyss, endlessly dragging her down.
She finally, giving in to her needs, dropped into the snow. Her pure snow-like fur blended in almost perfectly in comparison to the nature around her. The snow made perfect cover for her nose and, after a bit of rooting, the rest of her body. It felt oddly warm. It surprised her for a moment before she realized that nothing truly shocked her anymore. She took note at last of a cut up one of her front legs. Where had she done that? She couldn't remember. She licked at the drying and dried blood. It was terrible to taste really, but she could do no better.
Her eyes felt heavy. She needed sleep, she needed food; she knew this. In her mind, a silent resolve arose. Death would come. She would be ready for it. But, in another light lying back in her mind, she couldn't have been further from ready. She hadn't lived yet. She wanted to live; you lived before you died, so she couldn't. Yet, here she lay in the middle of nowhere, hurt and hungry. She shook her head. No good she thought. There's no one out here. But, I guess...I can't stop yet. She raised her head and took a step before she collapsed; the exhaustion had caught up to her and hopelessness fell over her. The light of the sun she held so closely to her, the burning passion, began to burn out inside her vibrancy.
Before anything else could register, her eyes jerked open. The sounds of birds filled her ears and the scent of the new season flooded her nose. She sneezed into the grass before her; it tickled her a little too much to ignore. She sat up and yawned, stretching quite a bit with her head dipped down. Again, that tickling sensation.
She stood up entirely, her form feeling a little less heavy than it did before her slumber and especially her feeling during. "One thing is true," she mumbled to herself, "I am still alone." She seemed somehow content in this, but another air about her suggested otherwise. She rocked her head back and forth and walked on in search of someone or something to occupy her mind in one way or another. Spring had come; she had better not waste it.