A/N: I think that the title will make more sense, as we get later into the story. I already have the third chapter written up, but I don't know how long Life Not Living will end up being, but please stick with me. Disclaimer: I don't own My Heart Will Go On...that's by Celine Dion. And I most definitely don't own the Labyrinth.
"Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feel you. That is how I know you go on..." Sarah sang, more than slightly off pitch, hanging her arm out the window, the hood to her dad's old convertible, given to her as a birthday present a couple years ago. The goosebumps along the skin of her outstretched appendage let her know that it was cold enough that soon she would have to put up the top and windows, but she ignored the chill for another moment longer, mezmerized by the way the wind blew through her slender fingers, picking up the digits for a second before they dropped them, only to be picked up by another stream of air.
Finally, shivering, she regretfully pulled her arm back into the car, rolling the window up behind it. She reached forward and turned up the heat, thankful for the fleece insulation of her favourite white leather jacket, though the lining on her elbows were almost worn out and the edges were starting to fray from constamt use.
With a flick of Sarah's finger, the convertible top started to pull itself out of the back of the car. It momentarily blocked the veiw of the mirror attatched to the windshield, but Sarah wasn't worried, she had been driving to her parents summer place in North Carolina using mostly backroads and hadn't seen anyone for miles, the last vehicle being a lone motorcycle rider with windblown red locks. The soft top clicked softly when Sarah latched it to the car again, making sure it was securely locked to her windshield, knowing that the catch didn't always work properly because of the general age of the semi-outdated car.
Glancing again to triple check that the hood was properly connected, Sarah screamed when she turned her eyes back to the road, seeing a black wolf, the tips of his midnight fur golden in her headlights. With a jerk of her steering wheel, the car spun on the dirt road she was travelling along, tires screeching in protest to the jarring movement.
Entirely focused on trying to regain control of her steering wheel, it was too late when she saw the looming tree ahead. The left side of Sarah's car crashed into the pine, molding the door into a rough approximation of the tree trunk.
With a cry, the air from Sarh's lungs was driven from her, a sharp angle from the now deformed car door thrust into her ribs, causing something to crack. The airbag, deployed at impact, was suffocating Sarah, her breathing short and laboured as she let out an inarticulate cry. Her arm was crushed awkwardly to her chest, further restricting her breathing.
There was flash of white against the backs of Sarah's eyelids, prompting her to open them. Blinking sluggishly, her pale green eyes struggled to still her swimming vision. Blonde, wispy hair, streaks of delicate azure shot through the legnth, fluttered in a nonexistant breeze. A harsh ebony leather breastplate, smooth to the touch, embossed with the upside-down horns akin to the necklace he wore, dully reflected the filtered moonlight; fitted goose grey leggings tucked into snug mid-calf height riding boots, his heavy brocade cape, floating about his legs, completed the look.
How he managed to extract her from the crushed drivers side, Sarah would never know. Her last memory of that night was being held gently, as one might hold a porcelain doll, by him, cateful to keep her injured side away from his body.
He took a few steps, his stride long and graceful despite the awkward position of the woman in his arms, before his cape swirled around them, folding in on itself with the pair in its richly coloured depths. They disappeared with a sharp snap, the sound echoing unnaturally.
Illuminated by the faint glow of the wrecked car, the night wolf sat down, silver eyes glinting as he seemingly stared through the car, watching unblinkingly.
A/N: Love it? Hate it? Think that I could totally do with some improvement to my writing? Please leave a review, favourite, alert, or PM me! Whatever floats your boat, I'm good with! ;)