( buckle up buttercup )

her heaven is only half alive
i fell asleep in his, but he could not breathe in mine

A fervent fire was exhaled from her breath, at first in smooth drawls, and then suddenly fast, an aching, a gasping. Wintry air filled her lungs and scorched the pink flesh in fervid frostbite. Her breath burned with each effort, a thick and tightening in her throat that cut her gasping short. Golden eyes flew wide under fluttering lids, soon growing teary from the harsh thin, mountain air. The wind outside the small alcove was cold and brutal, and even the makeshift shelter she had found had begun to become bared down by the wind and the snow. The outside world was a bright and blurry daze, the lightness of the illuminated passageway indicating a crisp and clear noon, but the wind was harsh, and its howling reverberated off the steep pass walls like a pack of hounds. The world was otherwise hauntingly silent, and the sun threatened to crest over the tall mountain peaks once more, and plunge the narrow valley into darkness once more.

Jendayi’s head was throbbing, a single paw curled up to press against the side of her temple, attempting to rub the area free of its radiating pain. The thoughts and images of her terrifying dream continued to occur well past into her consciousness, the continual aches and wails of her haunting reverie still an ethereal white noise, an accompaniment to the haunting wind of the pass. She had not chosen to sleep here, she had attempted to press on through the pass as much as she could, but had collapsed halfway through it. Her sense of direction was dulled, the only way she knew forward was the way her nose was pointing when she had fallen out cold. Her stomach rumbled, and her energy seemed all but continually depleted. It was as if she had not slept at all (but given the time of day it was, Jendayi could surmise she had slept at least seven hours).

A guttural cough exhaled from chapped onyx lips, her tail curling around her trembling legs, the idea that pushing through such a pass alone and with such low energy perhaps not a good thing. The subconscious fear of the cliffs that towered on either side of her continued to only press harder on her—the sickening sounds of rocks slipping down the straight-edged cliff-sides before breaking at the bottom a haunting cacophony. It was easier to will herself back to sleep, but Jendayi knew better now than to test the wind and the unpredictability of winter storms. She could not remain in this pass much longer. Stocky legs attempted to pull the woman to her paws, and after a few moments of effort, she was finally able to come to a stand.

Slowly, she ambled forward. Her gait was limpish, her stomach particularly thin, her realization that staying in the north much longer was not a good idea was soon dawning upon her. As much as she enjoyed it, she found the farther south she went, the more she ate, and the safer she was. She had seen enough snow to last herself a lifetime, and while the urge to stay and see all there was to see was almost undenidably overwhelming, Jendayi knew she wouldn’t be able to see if it she died along the way. It would be an unfortunate way to go.