Cerulean Cape farewell and adieu to you spanish ladies

all welcome so hop on in y'all

She had reached the sea. Along the way, it had seemed like an incredibly important journey, but now that she was here, she felt. . .nothing. The rushing of the ocean echoed in her empty heart, reverberating off the walls of the skull that held her damaged mind. She came across a beach that must be beautiful and warm in the summer; during the birth of winter, it seemed merely bleak.

With a huff, Snowe lay down, her stomach rumbling. She had managed to snatch up a rabbit she had scared into falling down the cliffs near the foot of the mountains, thus breaking its neck. But a rabbit was merely a snack for a wolf, and she lay her head morosely on her paws, trying to ignore the protests of her belly.

Her conversation with Samothes yesterday had disheartened her. When she had awoke atop that mountain, she had known something was wrong, but she couldn't figure out why. Now, upon reflection, she knew she had met with a terrible force of nature--but she didn't know what. Had she been attacked by another wolf, or some other predator? Had she tumbled from a great height and knocked herself out?

And her fur. . .her beautiful, lustrous ebony fur. Or, at least, it once had been that way. Snowe knew she could not have been born with patchy fur like a fledgling, even less fur that had been clearly burned.

The memories that had flitted through her mind on the mountain were growing a little stronger now, but all they seemed to be were fragments: the feeling of being at her mother's teat, suffused with warmth and milk. Or the playful glint in her littermates' eyes, still blue with youth. Nothing to help her identify herself--her name, her family, her place in the world.

Snowe let out a tearless sob, clenching her eyes shut in frustration. Had it always been this way? Was she doomed to forever feel utterly, hopelessly alone?