and i'm not keeping up
The tundra is a sheet of broken light—sun on ice, glare on every horizon. Wind combs the world flat and pale, and my breath ribbons out in little ghosts before the cold swallows them. I can’t feel my toes. I can feel everything else.
Mom’s okay. Dad’s okay. Family is… becoming real. I’ve joined a guild, I’ve made friends, I keep finding small ways to help—and that’s enough to make warmth bloom under all these layers even as the wind nips my cheeks. Cloud nine really makes good insulation.
I’ve got my bow across my back, daggers snug at my hips, the new shortsword riding light and sure. Browns and whites, nothing flashy. Torchline doesn’t offer much hunting and I need the practice, so here I am in Halo again, thinking I should apply for dual citizenship as my toes quietly disappear. An hour of tracks and breath and careful steps brings me up the lee of a drift. Then I crest and drop to my knees so fast the breath jumps out of me.
There they are—the herd, pale shapes stitched into the glare. Antlers catch the light like frost-limned branches. Maybe the Void is gone, but I remember what antlers feel like in my arm. Not today. Today is simple: track the herd, figure out how to transport as much of it as I can (I'll cross that bridge when I get there, shut up), and go home with all my blood where it belongs.
Movement to my right. A man in pale colors trudges straight toward the crest—straight toward the herd. My stomach tightens. I scoot lower, sliding down the drift until the wind swallows me. Then I dash toward him in a low, quick run, gloves waving at him in the air. I cut a hand across my throat in a universal stop, wide-eyed, praying he sees me before the luxere do.
“Down—herd’s right there,” I whisper as soon as I’m close enough, breath a soft cloud. I flick two fingers toward the dip beside us and point past the drift’s lip, keeping my profile small, every motion slow and sure. “We can circle wide.”
I offer him a quick, bright smile—encouraging, not loud—then flatten into the snow and wait for his eyes to meet mine. "Maybe we take down more than one together." I suppose it's not quite standing on my own but it can't hurt to help each other.
Mom’s okay. Dad’s okay. Family is… becoming real. I’ve joined a guild, I’ve made friends, I keep finding small ways to help—and that’s enough to make warmth bloom under all these layers even as the wind nips my cheeks. Cloud nine really makes good insulation.
I’ve got my bow across my back, daggers snug at my hips, the new shortsword riding light and sure. Browns and whites, nothing flashy. Torchline doesn’t offer much hunting and I need the practice, so here I am in Halo again, thinking I should apply for dual citizenship as my toes quietly disappear. An hour of tracks and breath and careful steps brings me up the lee of a drift. Then I crest and drop to my knees so fast the breath jumps out of me.
There they are—the herd, pale shapes stitched into the glare. Antlers catch the light like frost-limned branches. Maybe the Void is gone, but I remember what antlers feel like in my arm. Not today. Today is simple: track the herd, figure out how to transport as much of it as I can (I'll cross that bridge when I get there, shut up), and go home with all my blood where it belongs.
Movement to my right. A man in pale colors trudges straight toward the crest—straight toward the herd. My stomach tightens. I scoot lower, sliding down the drift until the wind swallows me. Then I dash toward him in a low, quick run, gloves waving at him in the air. I cut a hand across my throat in a universal stop, wide-eyed, praying he sees me before the luxere do.
“Down—herd’s right there,” I whisper as soon as I’m close enough, breath a soft cloud. I flick two fingers toward the dip beside us and point past the drift’s lip, keeping my profile small, every motion slow and sure. “We can circle wide.”
I offer him a quick, bright smile—encouraging, not loud—then flatten into the snow and wait for his eyes to meet mine. "Maybe we take down more than one together." I suppose it's not quite standing on my own but it can't hurt to help each other.
the strength i need to push me
Theea
