I hate every noise that spills from my trembling lips, though I can no longer tell if they shudder from some strange fear I cannot place, or from the chattering of my teeth as my body objected loudly to this horrible cold world. I’d never lived in a place that wasn’t arid, dusty, and scorching nearly all hours of the day. Like a kitten dumped into water, I was cursing my mind for ever wanting to map out this place, the hand that had gotten me into that water, and into this situation. I’m still clueless as to why the pathetic sounds are slipping freely over my tongue and between my teeth anyways. Even as I cower away from the howling beast of a storm, my fear and anxiety is nowhere near high enough for such awful, pitiful whines. Unable to crush them, I grit my teeth to stop the chattering, and purse my lips until the volume is muffled effectively.

The snow stings my face and eyes, and the rushing wind over the land was even worse because I was so close to the ground, where the snow was whipped up the most. It’s impossible to see, and my mane is thick and frozen against the skin of my neck, forelock a thick clump on my crown. It’s so cold in comparison to the heat of my face that it gives me a headache, though the snow slapping into my visage may be a part of that as well. There is enough shelter, but the walls are thin and the wind was blowing right into the mouth. Had it been coming from a different angle, I wouldn’t be so prone, but I can’t change the ways of Mother Nature, and I fear if I ever thought of trying she would show me exactly how much power she held. Though I had known that I would be walking blind and without information into the Steppe, I had underestimated just how out of my element and helpless I could become. Yet my mind still hungered even in this strange weakness I currently held, wondering how the skies and weather could change in mere instants to transform a peaceful, still landscape into a furious storm like this.

I whip up rather creative curses in my thoughts, all directed towards myself. What had I gotten myself into? Why did I charge forth into a place I knew could be dangerous without asking after it from a herd member who’d traversed it before? Why didn’t I take more precaution in my judgment of distance? All these questions were meaningless now, and I wasn’t going to waste my time when I knew the answer all lay within my mind, both meanings of the wording quite fitting. I can’t tell if it’s my stature, my anxiety, or my lack of experience with the area, but the snow drifts building outside the shallow cave seemed frighteningly large. Lengthwise the shallow cove just managed to shield me fully overhead, but the pockets in the ice and the wind crushing me into the back wall did me no good. Again I foolishly wished that the storm’s furious winds could have chosen a different point of the compass to rush towards, for the shelter was only helping overhead and what little the sides could block. I pressed myself as close to the back of it as I could, turning my right side out to the snow so that I was curled up instead of utilizing the length of the cove.

Bitterly (and fiercely sarcastically too) I thanked my shortness for at least allowing me to nearly fit width-wise, but the dry humor wasn’t enough to cheer me up, and I knew I must look a sorry mess. Perhaps I resembled a polar bear by now? No, I must look like the twisted offspring of the white bear and its brown grizzly counterpart, for my dark hide was still slightly visible. That thought, at least, was a little better at lightening my mood. Not that it lasted long with this weather and the sting I was subjected to as the wind stung my skin with snow, ice, and whatever mix of snow, water, and hail was coming from the sky. My personal joke died out and in minutes I was miserable once more, anxiety growing as my helplessness became more apparent. I wasn’t used to feeling this way, and I could almost feel a panic attack coming on. I hadn’t had one since I was a filly, and I wasn’t keen on breaking my record now.

Instead of forcing myself out of it- or succumbing to it, I wouldn’t know- someone else became the distraction I desperately needed to know I wasn’t alone and trapped in some desolate, time-warped world of blinding white and stinging pain. At first I don’t see him, my own eyes shielded and almost shut with how fiercely I’m narrowing them against the wind. As if the snow would let me see past its shield of white-out anyways. But he comes regardless, a sudden flare of copper and amber, dulled in color by the flakes that cling to his coat just as they do mine. I’m so lost, so blind, and I don’t realize he’s there until he’s upon me. My chest seized up and I let out a cry of surprise and fear, the wicked curve of his horn coming rather close to my canvas. I shake, eyes wide instead of nearly shut, fearing he had come to kill me. I am small, but he towers above me, features nearly indistinguishable with the ice and flurry that covers him. My eyes fly to the horn that rests on his crown, and feel as if I’ll faint. I’m no weakling, and I’ve been in my fair share of dirty fights, but he had taken me by surprise when I was anxious, on the verge of a panic attack, and in an area I didn’t know. The noise that ripped its way free of me is just as disgustingly noticeable and scared, feminine in ways I try to destroy, as the whimpering from earlier. It takes me a few moments, huddled there in shock against the icy wall as I try to escape the horn that had been held so low towards my side, before my brain clicks and realizes that he was just as startled to see me. We hadn’t anticipated the other appearing at all. My heart flutters like a bird with a broken wing, desperate and fast.

Moving away, he does not crowd me, but I’m sure my eyes are wide and my racing pulse visible in my breaths and the thrum of my neck. And, as I calm down from the adrenaline-terror rush, I see that he is shielding my frame with his own. It confuses me, but I am touched all the same, and stop clinging to the wall like a frightened rabbit. My legs shake, not from fear but from cold. Far from equipped for this weather, my bones ached and burned with how cold they had become an oxymoron I didn’t want to dissect. How does one deal with cold weather? It was surely a far different process from dealing with unbearable heat. He gives me space, observes me, and I let myself do the same. Beneath the frost that cakes us both, he is of a rather attractive coloring, and the slimness of his breed is all I can discern other than that. We both are panting softly, though for different reasons, but the concern in his searching gaze was comforting and tender in my eyes. Even if it was only to make sure he had not hurt me with his horn, the fact he cared at all relaxed my frame until the cold was the only reason I still trembled. Able to see better now with him chivalrously protecting me from the elements, I cracked oceanic irises and fixed them upon him with gratitude and curiosity.

He speaks first, tossing clumped icy forelock away from his vision which are revealed to be a startlingly clear azure. ”I-I’m alright, yes,” I managed to stutter out, trying to figure out how to speak when I had clenched my jaw so tightly it seemed reluctant to resume its normal position. It seemed even he was aware of the dangers, though, and I cast my gaze down to where my hooves were planted along the half-snow-covered stone of the shelter. Suddenly I feel foolish, shy, and even ashamed. I look up at him once more, knowing I had to answer. ”I…well I’ve never witnessed snow before, not in this quantity…the most I’ve ever seen would be a few flakes. I was just curious, but I was foolishly unaware that the weather could change so quickly in this type of environment…” I roll dark chocolate shoulders, sheepish smile stretching my lips shyly, hoping I wasn’t being too straightforward or revealing. I didn’t want to anger or annoy him, after all. But I can’t help but recall what had happened when he had startled me, my mind recording what my emotions had covered up, just as it did every breath and step; divulging the information only when I wished to access it.

I can’t help it; his actions have won him my sympathy. Of course, not nearly as much as a herd member, but I cannot ignore that he had stopped as fast as he could in order not to harm me; shielded me from the snow with his own body, a clear discomfort from his wincing. Checked over my form to make sure I was unharmed, queried over my possible injuries. Shuffling slightly to the side, I blinked my deeper sapphire eyes at his aquamarine, concern drawing my brows close. ”Are you okay? Here, I’m sure we can both fit; I don’t want you falling ill because of me. Is there any way I can aid you? If you would feel indebted don’t worry, you have already done much for me.” Motioning to the area I had opened for him, frowning in concern at the wind that battered against him from his current position. But as I had spoken that last portion I gave a small, warm smile, hoping to ease the underlying tension and show I was no threat to him. I wasn’t a healer, possessing little experience with this kind of threat, but I knew we couldn’t remain cold forever. I was not going to simply touch him, knowing the value of personal space, but the ice and snow in his locks and upon his spine worried me. In my case, the cold had retreated to the bulk of my body by then, extremities going a bit numb. Shifting and awkwardly moving my hooves, I tried to get the blood flowing again, but my focus remained curiously, attentively, on this stranger. Only to immediately flush when I realized I hadn’t given my name, face warm beneath soaked canvas, my ears awkwardly collapsing into an apologetic, embarrassed expression. Feyther and Sohalia would have chided me for my lack of social grace, and I would have deserved it. ”Oh no, I’m so sorry, that was terribly rude of me. I’m Rowan; can I know your name?” I thought it best to leave my herdland out of the equation, if only to preserve the feeling of detached kindness I felt from him. Or was it my imagination? Was I being too nice? He had been such a gentleman, selflessly taking the sting of the elements for me, and I couldn’t be rude or suspicious in the face of such easy chivalry. In addition I tried to keep my extensive vocabulary to a minimum, desperate to keep the cherry and honey stallion near. Past experience telling me that I would scare him off if I revealed the machine I was blessed and cursed with. I was dying for company, because earlier I had felt so starkly alone, completely stranded, and I was scared to be plunged into that solitude once more, where my mind would surely feast upon my weakness and drive me to tears of self-hatred. Was it obvious in my gaze, that I was desperate for him to stay?

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Note: This really sucked, I'm sorry ;_____;
WC: 2,025