Her feet stepped out on to the snow. Blankets of fresh powder glaze the mountain peaks. The flakes are no longer falling, but the air is frostbitten and thin. Her breath huffs out in misted clouds. There is danger here. She can feel it prickling at the back of her neck, the hair standing on end. Her senses had thankfully not been numbed by the cold. She was designed for that. Although…
Lately, the world has been changing. It is not how it used to be. Cycles have shifted. There is a cruelty in the speed in which the world is killing. An efficiency that wasn’t there before. The struggle has become more difficult to cope. She was coping. If only just about. She could seek help. She had seen creatures living further below the mountain, an abundance of food that they never finish, warm, and shelter. If it was one thing she had learned in her years on the mountain, they do not share.
They weren’t struggling at all. They thrived. They created things that could not be described as natural. Their nests, dens, whatever it is you would want to call them grow tall. They do not live like she does. Nothing is at risk for them. There was a possibility she was going to die tonight. It was possible.
Something was lurking, desperate to survive just like her. Did she dare travel down the mountain? Move out of range of this risk that was hunting her. Or… Did she remain close to her natural home? Away from those beings known to kill on sight. Her dark eyes scanned over the land that she lived so high above. Her frustrations rumbled through her throat. Night was coming. She chose risk over certainty as she returned to her den tucked away from those creatures eyes.