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There was an old expression: 'Out of the frying pan, into the fire." Fuego had never been one for cutesy turns of phrase, but he could appreciate a truism when he came upon it. Not being familiar with frying pans, he'd had to ask the teller for a definition. Apparently, the saying had come from a settlement of the strange foreign two-leggers; the type who had travelled across the great ocean to settle in the Kawani lands. Unlike the native humans, the foreign ones used 'pans' made of metal to do their cooking; one such pan, wide and flat, was called a 'frying pan.' According to Fuego's informant, the expression meant that something had escaped an evil, represented by the frying pan, only to encounter a new evil, such as falling into the fire over which the frying pan sat. Though Fuego had never seen a frying pan, he had a vivid enough imagination to get the gist of the explanation.

Today, trampling through what could only be described as a snowy hell, that expression came back to Fuego's mind. It wasn't a perfect analogy, but he was feeling as though he'd entered his own personal fire.

Though he had to admit that there was an amusingly coincidental aspect to a heat-related analogy, in the present circumstance. The frying pan he'd only recently left was a literal hot spot; the arid desert region that had been his home for nearly as long as he could remember. The fire? This frozen wilderness, commonly known to locals and travelers alike as the Kawani Lands. Fuego had only recently migrated to the Kawani lands, originally with the intention of making the migration permanent. But he hadn't counted on snow, or cold, or frigid winds.

"Better the devil you know, right?" With a cross mutter, Fuego dipped his head lower, hoping his thick, fluffy mane would serve as a suitable buffer against the driving snow. Why on earth hadn't he done more research before making his way to these lands? Why hadn't he waited until the cold season was over? Assuming that the cold season ever WOULD be over. He'd been told that the majority of the year in the Kawani lands was pleasant, weather-wise; this was the reason so many Soquili had made their homes there. But the winter, while it lasted, was intense and unpleasant.

NO KIDDING

Squinting his eyes, Fuego peered ahead in the hopes of seeing something sheltering. He'd been in the middle of one of those large meadowy expanses when the storm had blown up, and it had quickly become apparent that he needed to get under cover. The only problem was the snow was falling fast and furiously; visibility was poor, and Fuego had no idea if he'd made any real progress or if he'd just been walking in a massive circle.

Actually, it reminded him of a sandstorm, albeit with a bit less stinging. And less eye irritation, obviously.

But both storms emphasized the need for shelter, so Fuego soldiered on, a red blur against the falling snow.

Fuego couldn't understand how the locals could deal with this sort of thing, even if it WAS temporary. The farther he walked, the harder the going seemed to get; his very feet seemed to become heavier with each additional step. He had started out on this venture buoyed by optimism, but right now, his head nearly bent to his chest under the force of the wind and the snow, he was feeling downright miserable. Why, why, why hadn't he done his research better? At least then he might have someplace to hide, or at least to shelter himself until the storm blew past. Or else just buried him alive; at this point, he wouldn't put anything past the obnoxious elements!

But with that thought of 'shelter', Fuego realized he'd hit the nail on the head. He might be a stallion in his physical prime, but that didn't mean he could stay on like this indefinitely. He needed to hold his head up, to try and see through the blinding snow and find a tree, a boulder, a building, anything. If this was the desert, he'd live down and try to barricade himself against the stinging sand; however, he knew that trying a similar action out here was an invitation to freeze to death.

On that cheerful thought, Fuego willed himself to stand straighter, pulling up his head and peering into the swirling whiteness around him. Even with the added protection of his large tail against the windward side of the head, it was very slow going. But then, all at once, something was looming in front of him. Something large, and solid; something ROCKY! And where there was rock, there was hopefully some wind protection. He just had to inch his way along until it found it...