Meadowlark Prairie the irony of dying on your birthday

Tagging for visibility for a pack: @Raven @Finley @Elwood @Aaron @Potema @Cicero @Vandal @Snake :)

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There is little on West's mind that isn't cold or need. Each step is shaky and several times she stumbles face first into the snow, taking in a mouthful at a time only to spit it out. Her teeth chatter and her nose drips, freezing by the time it touches the fur on her snow. The feeling in her toes have long been gone and she doesn't know if she's table to even move her ears or tail and when she tries without looking, there are no answers. Lazily, her head turns to see a slight shake in the limp limb but the disconnect in her mind still leaves her questioning whether or not it had been her or the wind.

West tries another step in the several feet deep snow only to fall forward as if the ground is ripped from beneath her. The pain shoots from deep in her wasting muscle tissue, shooting the rest of the way through her spine. She lays there in a heap, memories flooding to the forefront of her mind as she remembers this once before. It had been a drought then, leaving her helpless and sick and sure the next step would be death. She croaks out a strangled sound from her throat and lowers her head to rest on thickened, compressed snow that hadn't yet frozen into ice. It chills her limbs even more but the numbness isn't enough to hide the pain that takes over. Silence keeps her jaws shut then as she becomes nothing more than a still stain in the pearly snow.

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