A Chill Within My Bones

Hell hath no fury like a woman' disdain. Anger, raging supreme, boiling within her serpent veins and setting her aflame. She erupted the same as the mountain, lava-like eyes permitted a glimpse of the chaos inside. A beast roaring, clawing at her inside took possession of her unsettled mind and her teacup pads left deeper marks within the ground she walked upon. The beast was her own anxiety, her own turmoil of what was left behind and what awaited for her upon her return to the promised land. She arrived only to see fire. Hell fire. Turmoil, shock waves that shook the ground and then silence -- unsettling, overpowering, and she feared for the worst.

The bitch had left the promised land of abundance that was Boreas and took her only son with her -- in the spur of the moment from her freedom challenge she had lost sight of the other heathens she had breath life into and only managed to reclaim Mordecai in the confusion. But even him did not last for long. She could not say if he was dead or alive, she could not fathom where her son had lingered to but what she knew was that they were separated moons after they left and now he was no where to be seen. Memories were the soul torturer of the draconian woman. She couldn't escape them, or hide from them; they were the worst kind of monster. She was scared of what her past and future held, all the memories that seemed to never escape her. They were pin point needles, piercing her skin, clawing at her mind. She couldn't scream or fight back, she had to just endure the pain  and suffering as the picture of their face flashed through her mind.

The coldness surrounded her, biting at her hide and ceasing any pleasantries. It was the kind of freezing air that made one buckle, that made one tense its muscles and brace their heads against the wind and so she did. No matter how warm the blood in her veins boiled with the anger of one thousand devils, her porcelain chiseled face got frozen just the same.

But there was still hope. Her nostrils flared as she encountered an ever so familiar scent, a trail -- mild but enough to set her course astray, heavy paws drifted towards it. The closer she got the stronger it was. The closer she got the louder her barks for attention and with them came the roars of her beating heart against her own chest. Realgar eyes widened to scoop the area as she moved, losing the scent every now and then with each powerful blast of wind but she could not be far.