I… I believe we are disoriented.
In mere minutes, the winds transformed from severe to nearly lethal. Molly struggled to maintain her balance for more than a minute, as the gusts propelled her forward or backward depending on her orientation, rendering her efforts futile. Her hands grew numb from bracing against the impending impact with the ground. Disoriented, she could not ascertain the direction from which she had departed the camp while contending with her inner wolf. How far had she wandered? Would her cries for assistance reach them? Or would her remains be discovered only after this ordeal concluded?
Certainly not—she could not even perceive her own breath. Her screams resembled whispers amidst the tumultuous winds. Her wolf remained utterly silent, as if it had forsaken her in the frigid environment, or perhaps she was simply unable to hear it over the cacophony. It may have been frightened away by her own trepidation.
Molly tripped in the snow and fell face-first into a substantial mound. She attempted to extricate herself, but the winds pressed her down more forcefully. A thought occurred to her that she might perish in this desolation. She endeavoured to dismiss those thoughts and concentrate on rising and reaching safety, yet she was unable to do so. The force was overwhelming; surrendering and allowing it to dominate her was all too effortless.
Molly shut her eyes and attempted to transform into her wolf. She endeavoured to summon the wolf within her, but it remained unresponsive. How could she elicit its emergence? Why did it not heed her summons?
She was now in a state of panic. A sensation gripped her chest and coursed through her body like an electric shock. Molly compelled herself to rise from the snow that sought to ensnare her, only to fall back onto the ground upon standing. The fog obscured her vision, rendering her surroundings indistinguishable for miles, making her feel as though she had entered an entirely different realm. The cold was excruciating; no part of her felt warm, and she doubted she would ever experience warmth aga
Assistance required!”Molly screamed, yet her voice was rendered inaudible as if she had uttered nothing.”
Her apprehension enveloped her, attempting to stifle any prospect of survival. She advanced against the wind, only to discover she was traversing in circles. She repeatedly encountered the same towering rocks, her footprints obscured, before recognising her relentless repetition. She must have circled it a dozen times before conceding defeat and pausing for a moment of contemplation.
Molly ultimately resolved to repose against the rocks as her legs began to ache. She embraced herself and shut her eyes firmly, hoping the winds would cease and the tempest would pass swiftly. How long had she been exposed? Would hours extend into days? She could not endure a single night in these conditions. Her jacket lacked sufficient warmth to provide any protection, not even remotely.
Her teeth chattered violently, instilling a fear that they might fracture into countless fragments. Her bones felt as though they were encased in ice, and she sensed a complete loss of sensation in her toes and fingers. Had she been a wolf, she might have endured this ordeal with her fur as protection. However, her efforts proved futile; her wolf remained unresponsive, leading her to ponder whether their prior dispute was the cause. Would she impose sufficient punishment to the point of death? Or did Molly simply lack the ability to shift at will?
She was entirely unaware of how to accomplish that, not in the slightest. She had only shifted once, and she was uncertain about the circumstances surrounding it. It occurred instinctively, without consideration for her own safety, in an effort to rescue another. Perhaps, at her core, she genuinely lacked the desire to save herself.
Molly descended the rock and collapsed into the snow. Her hands and arms felt numbed; she could scarcely elevate them as time elapsed. How long had she been lying here? Would anyone realise her absence? Certainly not, as she had not informed anyone of her intention to take a walk. She surmised that everyone was aware of the impending storm, and she was the sole individual foolish enough to venture into its severity. She presumed they all believed she was comfortably ensconced in her cabin, just as they were.
Snow commenced enveloping her legs and the remainder of her body. She clasped her arms more tightly around herself and shivered. Within minutes, her legs were nearly entirely obscured. She attempted to rise and extricate herself, but her legs remained rigid. They were frozen, as were her arms.
She reclined in the snow almost voluntarily as the wind assailed her with unprecedented force. It enveloped her in a shroud of snow, rendering her indistinguishable from the earth, as though she had never existed. Why had she ventured out here? She had forgotten the source of her anger. She had forgotten what had compelled her to risk her life, disregarding the inclement weather.
She had never genuinely contemplated the prospect of freezing to death. Despite the countless nights spent shivering and yearning for numerous blankets, and the instances when she tumbled into the snow and berated herself for her inattention, she never anticipated being ensnared in a storm.
