This place is hell, and I'm convinced hell is frozen over. We've been traveling and sleeping on the frigid/wet, pine littered ground for days. With nothing but meager fur to insulate our loathing. Night after wretched night, it was always the same -- forage, walk, rest, walk, forage, sleep, shiver. Perhaps Zahra's misfortant existence had cursed me as well (or maybe this land itself is destined for great unfortunate things) -- the very instant we made it out into the overcast morning meadow, those precious (annoying) snowflakes became our worst nightmare. HEAVEN decided to roll into overtime today, and currently she's dropping the largest clumps I'd ever seen. It fell in unreasonably thick waves; my vision is obscured by a downpour of solid white.

Even though traveling in this sort of weather was a complete turnoff (especially on foot) I knew that returning to the forest would be a death sentence for my shivering companion. Maybe me too. One grim emerald turns to the gloomy horizon with visible dislike. The nearest feathered limb spreads, soaring above the youth to act as a shield. Seems to be all I'm good for lately. "It's just a little snow," failing at encouragement (nothing unusual about that.) Onward. This vast field looked more like a frothy ocean, far past it's boundary. I took a forceful step from beneath the thick spruce canopy. Every moment spent in the open, an addition of pressure was pasting my winter coat against this pale flesh -- every second these teeth ground harder against my jaw.

It was in this weak moment that my mind found it highly tempting to entertain the idea of flight -- with a strong burst from the ground my wings could carry ME far from here...far from her. But in my head it wasn't hard to imagine the heart wrenching confusion, the shriek that would surely follow before the wind tore it east. Whimpering terror that would consume Zahra. In my heart I saw her sink into the snow, exhausted, trembling. Cold betrayal sitting in those gentle eyes like a blood stain that would never wash out.

NEVER MIND.

These dirty knees slosh through the drift, I broke the path ahead and trampled the soft ivory. Zahra trailed in the wake of each step, careful to stay upon the submerged path or risk falling into a hidden gully. It was high noon and still snowing before we stopped beneath the shadow of a mature juniper. The warm sun was playing peekaboo, more or less choosing not to peek or boo. Exhausted attention is spent on ensuring Zahra and Bird are resting -- then trailing off to forage the nearby swells for anything of sustenance. "Suck my frozen balls, Miss. Winter," a grumble, far from those young ears.

Nope. No quote. This place sucks.