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11-17-2014, 12:04 PM
I stood in the shelter of an ancient oak tree. Its branches were bare, yet laden with icy crystals that snapped and crackled as the winter wind stirred through the treetops. The trunk gnarled from age. The ground beneath my feet covered in a lush white blanket. Snow. How long had it been since I had last seen this white wonder? Ages ago, it seemed. I'm a wanderer, one without a home. Now, where was I? Looking around at the snow-laden trees, at the wintery wonderland, I recognized nothing, no one. I huffed quietly, my warm breath swirling out from my nostrils and mouth. A few snowflakes drifted lazily down from the heavens and melted into my back, forming small wet spots. I've always been alone. As far as I remember, I've always taken care of myself, learned to survive, learned to cope with my surroundings. In spite of this, at the very back of the dark recesses of my mind, I longed for someone to care for me. I only needed one person at my side. One was enough, even if the rest of the world turned its back on me. These thoughts always sparred with the wall that I'd learn to build up; they went against the laws of my nature. The lessons I learned from my past taught me to trust no one, that there were only three options in the world: enemy, nobody, or prey. But now, in order to survive, I needed someone, anyone, shelter me. I thought to myself, "If I'm lost, it's only for a little while. Someone will surely find me."
