cry a little

The icy waters had washed her up onto a snowy shore, and from there, she had no other option but to go south along a craggy ravine. Though flat, the tundra landscape felt familiar, and for a while she felt comfortable, hopeful that things would be right once more. Further down, however, the temperatures began to increase rapidly. The summer season was in full swing with clear skies and a cricket choir to help lift her heavy spirits, distracting her from worries of what her uncertain future held. As the ravine gradually turned into a grassy expanse dappled with slender evergreens, the ivory canine considered her options.

Her only goal had been to run until she could no longer see the mountains. The steppes had flattened out into icy plains, with long stalks of grass so immaculately frosted it appeared artificial. It stretched on until the world's end, or so Muses thought until she found herself in an abrupt free fall down to inky waters below. Her next memory was of fridge waves forcing her body onto an unfamiliar shore. Since then, she could not shake the sinking feeling that there was no turning back. Perhaps the gods truly did exist, and she was being punished after all.

After passing a sprawling wall, testament to the prowess of the beasts that roamed the world before them, there was little to see. The worn travelers' path was mostly straight across immensely forgiving terrain. Her pace remained a stubborn walk, for she was determined to save her energy. Hunting on her own yielded far less success than when she was with a group, so she had to be mindful of how she spent her calories. As she came across an ancient battlefield, however, she was quick to make an exception. The scent of iron and the foreboding aura was enough to make the hairs along the back of her neck prickle. She loped out of there, slowing only when the scent had weakened considerably, and the sounds of a fast-flowing river overtook the eerie silence.

Odd metal fragments lay buried in the dirt and sand, prompting Muses to stop, cautiously inspecting them. They smelled somewhat like rocks, but strange things as well; chemicals that the white wolf could cot comprehend. Shorting, she tried to rid her airways of the scent, rearing back and prancing forward, silly as a pup. Little, playful antics always cheered her up considerably, and she used the moment of fun to inspire her to keep going, despite the heat and loneliness.