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I burn those awkward seconds that tick on with self-prodding. These oversized lungs suck a breath and hold it while I attempt to replay the last leg of my journey. I could easily remember all the events that occur after waking --- but what about before that? The dull ache laying beneath my temple comes roaring back with vengeance, my countenance wrinkles in discomfort as the fingers of my mind search in their meticulous way. Dim, shapeless images arise…making my subconscious scowl at the memories that would normally be brightly lit and easily accessible. Now they are cloaked with darkness.

Only one memory of questionable timeframe is brought into the light.

Silver gulls cry out beside me, laughing at the loon that walks their path. I stumble down a narrow road -- that treacherous trail of stones has been poorly managed. To my left is an unforgiving section of razor shoreline consumed by repeatable waves. The other is a jagged wall of granite that runs nearly forty feet overhead. My terrified heart is fleet, echoing in my ears with the blood it pours into my mind. Those ill-fitted stones are wet and the path becomes hazy with fog twenty feet ahead. Loose bits of rock slip, skidding beneath these toes. Each jolt sends a powerful lurch to my chest, stinging my high-strung nerves – every step begins to feel like the last. I’m openly afraid of falling…no matter how quick the death would be.

I’ll never find it in all this…

My subconscious leers dumbly at the frosty ground. We wait for inspiration, for the tectonic plates to shift beneath us or for the snow to suddenly vanish.

At first (largely due to personal distractions,) girl number one barely hits upon my radar as she speaks with girl number three in a manner that has considerably less thorns then my dismissal. In addition, my subconscious doesn’t notice (at first) that those dainty black toes have shuffled a step closer…allowing number one to easily confront the group once more. Trembling visibly, my heaving barrel leans deftly to her warm carcass, like a moth drawn to a dangerous flame. This lean coat of hair is sleek with moisture from the callus weather. Cautiously, my body inspires to have a mind of its own; boldly it hovers, dancing a mere inch from her proximity and promise of heat. Number three had mostly faded from my attention, yet it is her lithe voice that snaps me from a self-induced trance. My head lifts, the skin around my eyes crinkle while the curve of these ears slip back to mate with that unruly mess of locks. A sharp lash of long, wet hair strikes smartly against my lower leg – a visible discharge of frustration.

Over-sensitive snapper…I didn’t have the energy or time to lick her wounded pride at the dead of night in a strange, snowy forest. Number three would have to do her own licking. She turns to leave with those thundering feet sloshing into the mess; the last I see is her graceful body leaping into the air with a few rapid clouts – never looking back. Another soft, irritable grumble swims from beneath a hazy breath, “Don’t let the branches hit your arse on the way up,” my subconscious rolls a set of figurative eyes at my snarky attitude. It was in that moment that I notice how close number one is.

These nostrils flare, surprised by the sudden fervor that shoots down my throat. Her scent…though sharp, reminds me of the northern air back home and the foothills. With a shivering groan of denial that runs through my meat like a tremor I take a sharp breath and sidestep purposely away to shake the lingering weight of snow from my spine. The casual action puts a respectably amount of distance between our bodies. Yet my skin still hums with remorse, pleading for relief. Lilac stones run the length of her powerful neck subtly. Her warmth is inviting on the physical aspect – number one might not be a banshee…but she was very much a bait and hook.

I spare a hard glance to number two as a distraction, she’d taken up the outward challenge to look as lost as I felt. In any moment I expect them to wander off; leave me alone with the plague of thoughts circling my mind like vultures. Abandoned in these accursed wood. The notion would have given me comfort (even joy) minutes ago – but now the idea struck me as terrifying. Only pride clogged my ability to admit it. My subconscious presses for the center stage, I relinquish that metaphorical platform without an argument; we are both tired and freezing…and lost, “summer has never been this cold.” Though the ground is mostly uniform…my first instinct was to assume we stood at a great elevation.

Why else would there be snow? “Have you seen a road around here?” Gems rise, centering themselves upon her icy irises should she allow it. Tonight, I’m breaking all the rules.