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Melina's Day In The Snowless Winter

Everything feels tense. Tense and out of my own control. I think I like it but I'm still unsure. My head is raging. My senses are over loaded. My lungs are filling with every atom of oxygen on this entire planet but I cannot breathe.

He nuzzles my paw.

I shake my head and look down at my one trusted companion. Of course we wags his huge fluffy tail the second my gaze is focused on him. What a spoiled brat.

I cup his small, fuzzy body in my palm and lift him up to my shoulder. I should have a small crater there by how much he spends his time there. I give him a quick grin and bring myself to my feet. As I lean down to pull my bright red boots on, I feel Quinn play with my ears. I don't mind too much but make a hushed clicking noise with my tongue after tugging on the second boot. I think he forgets how sensitive my hearing is.

I sheath my sword and deeply inhale, detecting many pine trees still giving off their aromas in this snowless winter air. I don't mind this irregular weather, but it does have its minor effects on me. I can feel my fur growing out, prepping for the bitter cold. My paw pads are toughening so that the ice can't get in between the cracks and cause injuries. I appreciate my body being able to do this for me except for the point that it's too damn hot for longer fur. We've had one light blanket of snow that melted the minute it laid across the dirt. Otherwise, the atmosphere hasn't been near freezing in over a week.

After my analysis, I glance around and everything seems clear. I try my best to ignore the light breeze dancing around the tree trunks, composing new noises that my head wants to desperately transpose into voices. I know they aren't real.

Quinn paces between my shoulders, crawling under my pony tail or hiding in it like it's a curtain. I like the tickling sensation on my neck as it's an appealing distraction. It's just enough to break my focused ears and nose on my territory. I'm still so grateful that I actually decided to save him from that trap a couple years back because so far, he's been the only mink not to annoy the living hell out of me.

The wind was being bipolar today, but that's normal for Southern Alaska, although this lack of blizzards is suspicious. The gust blows through my hair and fur. Great, now I have to brush this mess out later, especially since Quinn is deciding to not hold still at all for today's patrol.

Quinn and I both know that there's really no need to watch over my territory. So what if I don't "own" the land or pay some kind of taxes, fuck that, this shitty government never does anything for me. Plus, no one is ever out here anyways so I think a wolveriness has no problems being out here on her own. I built my own home and supply my own food, and sometimes Quinn's. For the most part though, he's picky and likes retrieving his own goodies.

I keep walking through the woods and keep my eyes peeled for my special tree. It has claw marks all up and down it from climbing it. Found it! I lean down and twist the knobs on the side of my red boots, allowing for the tiny spikes to poke through the soles. I sharpen my own claws and reach up, letting the ends of my claws fall into the previous made notches. I pull my leg up and propel my body upwards, ascending higher and higher. Finally, some light peeks through the leaves and warms the fur on my face. Quinn sniffs the air for a second before sprinting up my arm and up to the tippy top of the tree. As I poke my through the top, the smell of fresh, unpolluted air breech my nostrils and it's lovely.

One of the best parts of living in Alaska is just that. No annoying people or arrogant furs. Ignorance is bliss and really fucking irritating.

I pull the rest of my torso up into the air, the clouds less than ten feet above my head. The higher elevation in this part of Alaska makes me feel so much closer to the planet and farther away from society. I'm definitely not a tree hugger or big on recycling but I will always prefer the untamed wilderness to the corruption of population.

Everything looks good from up above as I tightened my grip on my side dagger again. I can recognize that noise in the leaves anywhere. I pivot and slam my blade into a squirrel's side and twisted, ending its life faster than a hawk's pursuit of a mouse. I bring the small furry body into my lap and quickly skin it, putting the large slab of skin into my small pouch. I want to try my hand at sewing a new hat together later. Quinn is right by my shoulder again as the aroma of fresh meat wafts through the air. His whiskers are practically touching the carcass as I slice off a small chunk for him to gnaw on. I don't mind raw squirrel but nothing exciting is going on so I pull out my small lighter from my bag and give the meat a light warming to it. Quinn snuggles up behind my ponytail again as he finishes up his piece and I continue to break apart limbs and eat around the bones. The tiny ribs and some cartilage I don't mind, but I can't digest the femurs or forearms. It's a lovely snack though and the triceps makes a good toothpick. I lean my head back, nudging Quinn to let him know that we are descending the tree now.

We stroll up and down different trails with no signs of recent ATV's or bikes. Not even fresh hiker tracks. Maybe I'll actually have to hunt some large game for my winter's meat. With the likes of this year's weather though, I'd say I had another week until some serious snowfall was going to occur.

I think he likes to see me smile because he keeps hopping down from my shoulder and running ahead and then right back within a minute, usually trying to scare me somehow. I value his efforts as they would probably make a puny human piss themselves but I always heard him. I can't stop my ears from twitching when his paws have a very light pitter patter along the tiny pebbles on the trail, or when his back feet break and kick pieces of bark from old dying trees. I try to catch him whenever he jumps out and he licks my cheek, and it always makes me smile, and within ten minutes, he's taken off again.

He's been gone for too long though. He's usually jumped out by now. I stop and listen. Nothing. Or at least not caused by him. He sounds much different from the squirrels and birds around here. He's usually only hiding for about ten minutes, but it's been over twenty. I sniff around and pick up a faint odor of his snack from earlier. As I follow it farther and farther, it veers sharply to the left, into no path whatsoever.

I am at a jog now, following his scent closely and heard him in the distance. How far away did he go and why? He's whimpering. My senses go into over drive and I'm at a dead sprint. No one hurts my best friend.

I have my newly sharpened sword drawn and ready, my paws through custom made straps while white-knuckling my dagger.

I run out onto a beach where some otters had him by the tail, upside down. He's clawing frantically at the sand, desperately trying to get away when he looks up and spots me. The otters look up and see me as well. They drop Quinn almost instantly and freeze with terror but also standing their ground. I make a clicking noise with my tongue and cheek, and Quinn sprints towards my feet, but one of the otters draw their bow in order to reclaim my friend. I am faster though. My dagger is in his thigh before he even has a chance at shooting Quinn. I swiftly lean down and pull my spare knife out of my boot. I give out a loud growl and the rest of them run away, dragging away their screaming friend.

I put away my knife and hold Quinn closely with my free hand. I am too paranoid to put away my sword. His fur is all ruffled up and he whimpers for just a little bit. I have never seen them in my territory before and I thought we could keep a solid barrier. They all appeared very young though, maybe they weren't told by their parents, it doesn't matter to me though. They didn't even that close of friends as none of them seemed concerned with their buddy's femoral artery bleeding out. I think my aim is getting better.

I try to coax Quinn up to my neck but he won't leave my palm. That's fine, I guess. I take my boots off and strap them to my belt, stuffing the socks into the bottom of them. I miss the feeling of sand in my toes. I walk slowly up and down the beach's coast line, up to the natural rock structures that mark where my land ends and theirs begin. It looks like they drug that kid all the way back by the straight path of disturbed sand and blood trail. I want to go over to their land and cover the blood. The smell of meat is always too good, but I don't want to make a small situation any worse. I turn around and stroll back up the coastline, walking down into about five inches of water. It was freezing cold. Maybe the snow will come sooner that originally predicted.

Quinn is asleep in my paw now. I guess the anxiety exhausted his small body. I sigh and sheath my sword. The danger should be gone for now. I reach down and open my bag's flap and slide Quinn into a side pocket. He's such a hard sleeper that he only makes a little whimpering noise and rolls over in the pocket. I grin and put the flap back down, shielding his eyes but leaving the side slightly ajar so that he'll get fresh air. Hopefully the skinned squirrel won't wake him anytime soon. I think I'll do some bigger game hunting while I had a couple more hours before dark. Alaska had begun it's shorter days and I had lost track of time since the beginning of the official "winter" time. I don't mind going out in the dark during winter but I worry about Quinn since he refuses to let me go anywhere by myself.

I guess I should be concerned about my home since seeing the otters, but I frankly didn't give two shits. I rarely ever actually sleep in there as it's acted more of a storage and a workshop for my weapons. Fuck! I forgot to check to see if my dagger had fallen out of his leg, or at least gone through. I'll go check tomorrow. I doubt it's out in the sand since that kid wasn't bleeding out too much. It's probably still in his thigh right now.

I try to focus on my goal of trying to find some larger game for some meals to come but my ADHD was going off now. I can control it better this year but it's still complete hell. One of my only outside friends from Alaska has these friends, some scientist or something and she had them make a cocktail that I've been using. It numbs my senses on command and I love it. I just have to force myself to want to focus on something, but I have to take it every day. The needle is a little bigger than I'd like but it works. I'm just worried running out since I haven't seen her in five months and I'm running low on substances. It's wearing off right now as well.

I shake my head a little bit as the voices are coming back. I try not to shake my torso too much so I don't wake Quinn. Maybe I should go back to my house and just sleep for a while but I know I won't sleep for long. The nightmares keep me awake. They aren't bad, more annoying that anything.

I sit down in the sand and try to think about what I want to do. Ones things for sure and that's keeping my boots off for a while. I reach back and undo my pony tail, my hair falling and spreading out in the sand. I dig my heels into the sand, burying them. The sediment is neither warm nor cold. Perfect. Maybe I'll just relax for now and try not to worry about anything. Worry is the wrong word though. I just want my nerves to relax. I don't worry about much. I've met my matching fighting, but she's my friend so that's nothing to worry about. That otter tribe is lucky that have enough decency not to slaughter all of them in their sleep. I could sneak into their camp one night, and begin with taking out their chief. That would be easy enough. Their guards suck and usually sleep on duty anyways. Their warriors wouldn't know what hit them, or their families.

Quinn nudges my stomach. It looks like he is frowning. I guess I'd fallen back into my thoughts again. He always seems to know when I do this and helps me come back to reality. He walks over my thighs and pokes my paws, and I retract my claws. He lifts his head up, happily, and lies down in my lap. I lean back on one paw and pet him with the other. Whoever declared that the runt in any litter is the worst is full of shit. Quinn in the best friend I could ever have. I suppose a night on the beach wouldn't be so bad.