gonna haveta luke skywalker this shit

It had been terribly cold lately. So cold, in fact, that he had been forced to flee the beach. The humid air rising off the water had chilled him so terribly that his shivering had kept him awake at night. He shivered so much at night that by morning he was exhausted and forced to sleep the day away or stumble around foggily like the drunks who littered the beaches back home during a festival. Unwilling to leave the only place he'd known since washing ashore, Sunder had lived miserably for weeks this way. Finally, having had enough and honestly fearing for his toes, he ventured inland.

All was well in that he wasn't shivering the nights away, but tolerably cold, until the bitter cold decided to follow him. And it hadn't just followed him. No, it brought with it a painfully cold white substance that felt a bit like sand under his paws but burned like coals if he stood on it too long. He didn't know what it was be he'd taken to calling it hellfire in his head because he couldn't imagine a worse substance existed. This was the sort of thing that evildoers must be punished with.

And then somehow it got worse. The hellfire began to rain down so thickly Sunder couldn't see more than a few feet in front of him. To put it simply he panicked. Valuable time was wasted running around frantically looking for a hiding place. He tried everything from wedging himself in the split of a diseased tree to digging under a pile of boulders. Neither place was very accommodating. So he ran all out through the snow, stumbling and falling through the growing - somehow slippery? - powder. Soon his chin was cut and bleeding, his paws raw, but he couldn't stop.

A shape loomed suddenly through the falling snow and out of instinct Sunder threw himself behind the nearest tree. Whatever it was, it was massive. He peeked around the tree and took stock of the beast. It stood with its head close to a nearby tree almost like it was shielding its face from the icy blast. What he could see of the fur on its body (the rest was covered in snow) was short and fluffy. The fur on the back of its neck and its tail was freakishly long. In agitation - or aggression, had it sensed him? - it snorted and then let loose an ear piercing scream. Seconds later the call was answered by something in the distance. Even though it had been answered it didn't move.

He noticed it didn't look too terribly cold, either. This was a fact he was immediately envious of. Sunder was freezing. Literally freezing. He eyed it desperately. More than anything else he wanted what it had. Normally he wouldn't dream of taking on such a massive beast but he was desperate. If he was going to die of something today he would rather it be a kick from that monster than a slow and painful freeze.

On shaky legs Sunder leaped from around the tree and raced over to the horse. He was almost at its shoulder before it caught sight of him. It jerked away from him just as he leaped for its throat. With a snort and a buck it was off, disappearing through the falling snow. For a second he was frozen with uncertainty. Did he pursue it and risk wasting too much time or did he search for shelter again?

He ran after it, his eyes straining for hoof prints as the snow worked to bury them from view. There! Through the snow he saw it again! Struggling to see like he was, the horse had stopped again once it thought the predator was gone. It was a reasonable thing to do; what kind of beast hunted in weather like this? Surely none were possessed by that kind of insanity.

None save for one desperate, naked dog.

This time he took care to sneak up on it. With the way his legs were going numb who knew if he'd get another chance. This was it; if he didn't get it he may as well just lay down in the snow and wait for death. He was out of options and fading at an alarming rate. His ears, his paws, his tail; he could feel none of them.

He lunged, half climbing, half leaping up the horse's neck in search of its throat. Somehow he managed to grab it. The horse, of course, was rightly incensed. It reeled wildly, swinging him around like a ragdoll. Sheer desperation kept him on it. He bit down with all of his might, but even with blood bursting on his tongue the horse seemed unfazed. What he had was not a fatal bite. The horse continued to toss around. By chance its efforts were so ferocious that one such toss managed to topple it over. Still attached at the neck, Sunder fell on top of it. He seized the opportunity to release his bite and go for another, then another as he tried to kill it before it could do him any harm.

He was not successful. With a startled shriek he took a hoof to the stomach and was sent flying. He hit the ground and was rendered breathless, but panic forced him to his feet. What he saw heartened him. The horse lay on its side kicking wildly. It hadn't righted itself and blood was spraying across the snow. Somehow he'd managed to do it.

There was no time for mercy. Sunder threw himself at its belly the moment its kicks were too weak to do him real harm. He clawed and tore at the flesh - somewhere in this frantic race the horse stopped moving - and roughly began to throw entrails into the snow. He tore and clawed and tossed until there was a space big enough to fit in. And then he climbed inside.