It was a peculiar feeling, walking through mist and snow and sensing none of it. Had her paws simply frozen into oblivious and numb, furry yet stiff appendages? She could barely feel the ground beneath her, much less anything cold. Maybe that was just her thick pelt at work . . . Brighteye almost blended in with the blanket of winter, only her namesake's cyan eyes sticking out from an otherwise soft white and gray pelt. The plains were white and gray too, and the sky an equal color-drained sight - all white, all gray, all in sympathetic hues to her. Perhaps if she just stood still long enough on the highest hill, maybe then the sky would swallow her up and she would not have to worry about her inabilty to remember, her lack of memories, her failure to recall anything at all . . . Would the gods, or the spirits, or whatever it was that had created this land take pity on the lonely Saighneian? She was ever tired of wandering with no purpose . . .
Worse, with no voice! No memory to match as to why. No scar to prove the damage. Brighteye knew she wasn't mute, yet for one reason or another her voice would not come out most of the time. A useless hindrance for an equally useless creature. Brighteye was a Saighneian that wallowed in self-pity and self-criticism at once, someoen that allowed it to happen because it reminded her that at least a living creature did care - even if it was herself. She feared clans for no particular reason she could remember for as well (how frustrating!), and males brought on feelings of dis-ease. What was wrong with her? Too much, she thought with a sigh as she clambored up a small hill to survey the plains.
Still the same as ever. Blank. Color-lost. Soft. Every once in a while she saw dips or bumps, but otherwise it was the empitome of an empty tundra. Funny how Brighteye sought solitude badly, yet when she earned it she felt as hollow as the bare trees.
Worse, with no voice! No memory to match as to why. No scar to prove the damage. Brighteye knew she wasn't mute, yet for one reason or another her voice would not come out most of the time. A useless hindrance for an equally useless creature. Brighteye was a Saighneian that wallowed in self-pity and self-criticism at once, someoen that allowed it to happen because it reminded her that at least a living creature did care - even if it was herself. She feared clans for no particular reason she could remember for as well (how frustrating!), and males brought on feelings of dis-ease. What was wrong with her? Too much, she thought with a sigh as she clambored up a small hill to survey the plains.
Still the same as ever. Blank. Color-lost. Soft. Every once in a while she saw dips or bumps, but otherwise it was the empitome of an empty tundra. Funny how Brighteye sought solitude badly, yet when she earned it she felt as hollow as the bare trees.
