T he cold crackled through the forest like glass shattering, rendering all else silent in the dark. The trees stretched skyward, their barren branches a testament of their will to survive even the most brutal temperatures. Everything else hid away seeking safety.
Find shelter. Get warm.
My paws froze and stung, turning numb from the bitter chill. Even my heavy coat couldn’t keep the cold from freezing me to the core. I staggered but kept running. The forest had changed. It was not the sanctuary I’d bonded with these past few years. Gone was the soft embrace I’d come to crave and the gentle, welcoming touch of Mother Earth’s power.
Yet I kept moving with no direction to my flight. Just an onward movement that meant distance. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t outrun the past or the pain.
Confusing memories from a different life swirled inside my head. Bloody flashes and the expression on his face—betrayal?—refused to let the earth steal humanity from me. I wanted to lose myself in the animal and forget that I’d ever been human.
Find shelter. Get warm , the voice in my head persisted.
His heart had stopped beating under my hands. Blood had heated my skin and stained me with something that could never be removed. Breathing had become almost impossible when his eyes had clouded over. His death, my madness.
How many days had I wandered, teetering between this life and the animal nature I sought to alleviate the grief? Every once in a while I could hear the howl of the dogs pursuing me, scent them in the distance as they were ready to rip me limb from limb as penance for my crime. The Dominion, Tri-Mega, the Ascendance, and probably the humans too, all seeking my death.
I deserved it, having killed everything I loved. I prayed for death. That would stop the pain, right?
Find shelter. Get warm.
A dark farmhouse in the distance beckoned as a possible break from the bitter cold. It was shelter. Might not be warm, but my gut wanted me to obey the voice. Hopefully no one was home else I’d be forced to hurt people again just to escape. I trotted around the house and discovered the scent of humans was old. If any had been there, it had been weeks, maybe even months earlier. I carefully slipped inside and forced myself to shift back to human flesh.
My skin ached like cold fire burning through my extremities. Fur was warmer, the lynx more prepared for the cold, and though this form was bigger, it felt small, compact. Too small to hold everything I had been and keep the pain from leaking through. Emotions rained down like golf-ball-sized hail. There was no stopping the tide this time. A human brain had far too much capacity for thinking, blame, anger, and self-loathing.
I cowered in the corner, curled around myself, crying, freezing, unable to find the motivation to keep going. My heart ached with accusations of murder.
Get warm. Find food. The voice’s demand changed. Was I hungry? I was still cold, but that was only fair, right? He would be forever cold, alone. I’d hated to leave him.
The farmhouse was silent but mostly clean. The water ran, and the thermostat sat at an even sixty degrees. The fridge was barren, but a heavily loaded stand freezer and well-stocked pantry proved this was more of a vacation home. I pried open the tab on a can of peaches and wolfed the fruit down. My stomach growled like I’d swallowed my lynx instead of just changed shape.
When had I last eaten? Days ago, probably. Without him, none of the mundane things mattered. The thought of him brought a rise of nausea and the memory of his last moments. I shoved the can aside and found my way to the only bathroom, and had to fight my rebelling stomach when it wanted to force up the fruit. I gagged and refused to let go of the food I ate.
You need to eat , the voice in my head told me, but I couldn’t.
A scalding shower washed away some of the dirt but none of the grief. Wet footprints followed me like his ghost had latched on to me as I searched the house for warmth and comfort—neither of which I deserved. A chest in the upper bedroom held flannel shirts that I could wear like an old-style nightdress. They smelled a little musty, but heat was more important. Would the shivering ever stop?
There was a vague memory in the back of my brain that reminded me I’d had the shakes before this. From cold? Did that mean I was always cold?
The reflection in a dusty old mirror was not kind. My hair was shorn close to my scalp, eyes shadowed in deep black hollows with the lack of sleep only days could bring. My weight had dropped, giving me more of a sallow complexion and a gaunt stretch to my face. Gone was the beauty he’d spent years coveting. He likely would have turned me away now anyway. Better that he was gone, right?
I sobbed. Was this what I’d become? Some kind of fugitive?
Earth Pillar. I laughed bitterly through the tears. That hadn’t changed anything. Love didn’t conquer all. Gabe was dead. Jamie probably was, too, since I’d shot him. If I had any sense of justice at all, I’d pull the rifle out of the closet—I smelled the gunpowder—and off myself right now. Maybe it would lessen the pain, but then, I didn’t really have a right to stop my suffering after what I’d done to them.
My hands shook so hard my fingers were numb. I couldn’t find the strength to reach for the end, despite the tears, the memories, and the loneliness. Rest. Things will be better when you wake. I curled up in the foreign bed and cried myself to sleep, wishing for the chance to just feel his arms around me one more time.
I love you. Sleep.