Alone (open)

An observer would have mistaken the filthy pile of fur for a dirty snowdrift, spattered with dried blood. However, upon closer examination, the viewer would see that the flanks of a wolf and its anima still rising and falling. The wolf stared at the stars with blank eyes. The blood was its own. The only part of her that still at least resembled her snowy pelt was where the tears had left trails down her maw. Indeed, Iceheart had fallen on hard times since the Goldenleaf pack had dispersed.

Kyota was in a similar state, although hope still sparked in his eyes, like chips of ice. His cat form was curled up next to his wolf, trying to conserve what little energy he had left. He ha dlong since given up trying to keep either himself or Iceheart groomed or fed. But after his long sleep, he once again felt the familiar pangs of hunger. Sweet pain, instead of the bitter numbness that surged from Iceheart, as if her heart had indeed frozen. Now he did not know if he had the strength to stand.

Kyota nipped Iceheart's muzzle sharply, and Iceheart woke, lifting her muzzle from her paws slightly, watching her anima with unseeing eyes. "What." she asked flatly, her voice croaking from disuse. "Do something! Anything!" Kyota protested. "What's the point?" Iceheart answered, before placing her head back on her paws. Kyota hissed with anger. He summoned the last of his strength to stand, and nudge Iceheart to her paws. He drove her to the water, and she refused to move any farther, the waves lapping at her paws. "Drink." Kyota ordered, but Iceheart shook her head, refusing. Kyota bent his head, and gulped down sweet water. He felt strength flooding throuh him, first clearing his head, and spreading to his paws.

Iceheart felt a glimmer of the energy that Kyota now felt. She quickly bent her head, taking a few mouthfuls, and ultimately soaking her muzzle in the process. She then quickly rereated to a safe distance away from the water, clambering up onto a boulder. Kyota followed suit. The sun hadn't risen yet, and so the pair shivered in the cruel wind. Kyota curled into a ball, but Iceheart lifted her muzzle. She cried to the moon above her that she could not see, mourning a loss that she had mourned for too long. Yet she still howled her life's pain. It did not cross her mind once that anyone would hear. She was a prisoner of her own mind, utterly alone.

Yet the water had come too late. Iceheart slumped downward into sleep, her anima beside her. A sleep from which neither would wake.