FSE

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The cold snowy air chills a figure trudging through the freshly fallen snow. Cloaked in a rugged black hooded coat, strings of thread displaced from their proper place in the fibers of the coat. Crouching down, looking directly into the pure white snow, the figure observed a strange limp creature. With unfathomable ease, the figure lifted up the body and slung the creature over it's shoulder, like an ant carrying a crumb of bread. The cold snow raining from the sky like little white bullets, covering the two as the cloaked figure walked somewhere silently.

****

I don't remember passing out inside the cottage... I also don't remember having a visitor. I'm too cold to move, my paws hurt, my legs hurt, everything hurts. It feels like I was just holding an ice cube for too long, the pain. I think if I try to sleep, I might not be able to find out who that is by the fire, but if I don't I don't think I'll be able to move without immense pain. I'll just rest my eyes for a... little bit..

Well, I'm warmer, and the figure isn't by the fire anymore. They're next to me. Pretending not to have just woken up, I half close half open my eyes like a child trying to catch Santa. Except I wasn't very convincing.

"You flew too close to the sun Icarus, might want to be careful next time. We both wouldn't want you to meet a watery grave." The figure said, it's voice was hard to distinguish from male or female. The fact that their face was covered by gear to survive hadn't helped either, as they stood motionless over me. It was almost as if it was a bird waiting for the worm to escape the safety of the soil.

"I'm protecting you, you know. My methods may be unorthodox, but its not like you have very many options these days." It spoke again, a clear tone of remorse. "You don't want to leave, the world waiting for you out there is a harsh and unforgiving one." Only excuses, nothing more than petty excuses for the barbaric treatment. Deciding to just give up the façade, I quickly sat up, noticing the reason I wasn't burning up. My snow jacket and pants weren't on, but a white tee shirt and a dull gray pair of pants take their place instead. Once more, the thing spoke, it's words like acid spit to my ears.

"The blizzard has died and I think we both know why. If you wish to leave, follow my footsteps. If you wish to stay, then there's a hot meal for you on the table." Without a direction of where it was going, or where the table was according to my position, it calmly opened the cottage door and left. Disappearing in the cold white abyss, as the soft wind howled outside, moving the door like a ghost. Without any hesitation, I tore the blanket off of the bed and used it as a makeshift coat, wrapping it around me like a cloak of vibrant colours and shapes.

The wind might've been soft, but it bit deep into my unconditioned body with cold sharp teeth. I'm sure the stranger was feeling just fine, quite warm as I followed him or her diligently. Their fading silhouette being a fuel for my journey. The footprints made no difference to my journey, as I denied looking down for fear of losing sight of my only lead. I can't say I was proud of my stupidity, having it taken me this far, and all I had was a soft quilt to keep me warm, but it was proving to be wise to have left so early on. I could almost make out something that I hadnt seen yet in this personal hell, a metal door. Maybe 'door' is a bit of an understatement, as it was a large metal gate door.

****

I still can't believe they let me in. They let me, somebody who is almost willing to beat the ever living Christ out of them, (or as much as my limited strength will let me) into their shelter. Wouldn't you know it here we both are, staring each other down at a dining table straight out of a frankenstinien IKEA, as my only hope for escape, undresses from their environmental protection. The first thing I noticed was his eyes, big and grey, like the dingy kind of grey you find on a bathroom stall. Then my attention was turned to the long and thin snout he sported, how I hadnt noticed that protrusion back in the cottage is beyond me. I was looking at the face of a walking, talking, wolf. This fucker had a sly, sleazy smile on his maw that said 'I'm so much better than you' . I had a few dozen questions circling around my mind at this point, but what worried me the most, was why this felt normal.