Hushed Willows d i s t o r t i o n

s h e  d o e s  n o t  k n o w  h o w  s h e  g o t  h e r e.
there is space between the lake and here, but the cold that settles so lovingly in her skin makes it hard to remember. she is aimless and allows the wind to push her where it may, and this time she has not fallen prey to the mountain's traps. tongue rasps over her muzzle, dry and pale, and oh she is thirsty. satisfaction seems a distant memory, driven further away by the void that is wanting in her.

she finds the lilies and they will not help the void but oh, they are pretty. she pulls a single @Lily from where it blossoms carefully from frost-scorched earth, it is hers and it is oh so beautiful. it is virgin white touched with yellow, and its stalk is deep @Olive and fragile. she holds it carefully, and it does not break. she resumes then her wandering search, ears pricked and keen for the sounds of water. she does not know this place. it is peaceful and yet there are other scents her, many, and so she proceeds with limp tail and soft posture, and her gaze is downturned and focused in the lily in her grasp. she does not know how she got here. 

b e s t  n o t  t o  t h i n k  o f  i t.