Hello! This is the first story I've submitted here. I hope you enjoy it. A few things I would like to mention first before I do. This is an OC story and the whole thing will be from her point of view with a few interludes maybe from some other characters. There probably will be no romance and if there is, there won't be a lot trust me. This story was written for the sole purpose of description (how I did on that one, you'll have to tell me!), I may have some messy grammar and punctuation, so expect editing for that, I would love help with that as well, so if you see some mistakes tell me!!! There will be dialogue and the quotation marks and other punctuation might be botched up, I don't like dialogue very much, but it will be there!!! How else would I improve, ne? So without further ado, enjoy!

Disclaimer: All characters (except my OC) belong to Wolf's Rain

Chapter I

Lost, barren land everywhere, very much lost. And cold, so cold it hurts and numbs at the same time. But…cold, is refreshing. I like the cold don't I. So then…I shouldn't be complaining about it. Right? But…lost…in blinding snow. Some trees here and there. Now that could potentially be a problem. Lost is never really good. Getting up hurts, my limbs were resting in the most awkward of positions. Like a bird that just fell out of the sky. They are sore and sharp pains spasm through my legs. It is hard to stand. I finally look around. At first it seems there is nothing but endless white, a canvas waiting for color. Then…trees, at first a few and then more and more. A forest. I start heading towards it. At this point it doesn't matter where I'm headed…eventually I'll find something. And it seems as though I always manage to find things in the woods. Previous camping trips are proof of that. Besides, if you don't know where you are, then you don't know where you're goin'. Makes sense, especially now.

Night is coming. It's much colder now. I can feel my legs freezing up. My fingers too, I've always had a problem with my fingers and at this point I cannot move them at all. But, I will freeze to death if I stop moving all together, so I keep walking into the dark night. A waning moon high above my head gives me all the light I'll ever need, even in the forest. Thank god there is snow everywhere, it makes everything less dark. Everything is bathed in pale silver light. The light of the moon, I fear how dark it will be when the new moon arrives. Then I will be forced to stop, if I don't find some shelter by then. I am most certain I will not live to see the next morn, unless by a miracle.

It is the fourth morning, since I have found myself lost. Everything seems cheerful enough. But it is so quiet. That is what I have found strange. There is almost no noise, with the exception of the crunching snow beneath my furry boots, and the sound of my sling backpack softly thumping against my hip with each step. No noise. Perhaps it is so cold that no sensible animal would be out in the big freeze. Then why am I in it? Have I become so numb that I can no longer feel how cold it is? Maybe…and that worries me. There is a danger of frost bite, even though everything that needs to be covered is. Then I hear it. The first sound in almost four days, the sound of feet on snow, it is ahead of me. I look up. There are four of them. Perhaps one hundred feet away from where I stand, wolves, I am no stranger to these majestic creatures I have seen them many times before. However, my actual contact with them was and is limited. I walk closer and they tense up. I refuse to move for them though. It would be a waste of my time to move around them. I feel as though I should keep going in the direction I am moving. My gut tells me I will find something soon, and it has not been wrong before. I refuse to get out of the way for some wolves. And it is they who move away a little, still observing me. I begin to pass them by.

There is about thirty feet distance between us, I turn to face them. It is my turn to fully observe them now. They are quite the ragtag pack. A steely grey one with a cross shaped scar on its chest seems to glare at me. I am too close for him it seems. He bares his teeth at me. Not very friendly is he? A scruffy red looking one stands next to him, head cocked to one side, curious, and by the looks of it a pup: skinny and leggy. A silver bangle is on his front right leg. I wonder how it got there. Next a hefty looking tan one. He seems to be the friendliest, but he is tense too. And despite looking hefty, tense muscles ripple once in a while along his neck and down his back. There is a collar around his neck, with a silver tag. Something is engraved in it, though I'm not too sure what. And finally the leader of the pack, a beautiful white wolf, he seems to be the calmest of them all. Calculating and detached, he stands proud and tall, he seems relaxed. But strong muscles bunch around his shoulders and legs, waiting to attack first if anything should go awry. They are all beautiful in their own way. Each has their character and I cannot help but want to permanently keep the image should I ever forget.

My hand drops to the flap of my bag and I open it. The sound of ripping velcro seems to fill the entire forest for about a quarter of a second. And the grey one raises his hackles. Growling ferociously, my hand reaches into my pack, and he looks ready to jump. I withdraw my sketchpad and his hackles stop. His teeth are still bared, but he seems confused. The pup then cocks his head to the other side and seems to relax a little. The grey one snaps his teeth at him, and quickly turns to face me again. The collared one seems to relax a little too, but not so much as to sit down as the pup had done. The leader had not moved a muscle, a perfect model. I put my hand in my bag again, there is a low rumble of a warning growl coming from behind the grey one's teeth. I back up a little, I am a little anxious of that one, and I withdraw a pencil. I begin to sketch, I cannot feel what I am doing, my hands are too frozen. I count on my eyes, and compare what I am drawing to what is in front of me.

I am done. It is only a rough sketch that I will complete later, but the basic image is done and I am proud that it came out decently considering the state of my hands. They are as pale as the snow all around, and the paper in my hand. Not good. There is no blood flowing. Not a lot at least. I put my materials away. I stand up from my position on my haunches and my gloves go back on my hands. My knees give a sharp crack that echoes as I get up. They still observe. I make a short bow to them thanking them for their time, just as I would do with any other model. And in a rusty unused voice I scratched out "If I had a hat, I would tip it to you". I make a final bow and continue on. Passing them by, they do not attack. I feel I am lucky.

And my lucky streak continues. After what seems to be two hours or so I reach some ruins. The ruins of some worse off city that has been abandoned, which is good, because I think a storm is coming, now I can only hope that there is a room with four walls and a roof somewhere amongst the wreckage. I keep walking through. I trip a couple times and then I reach what seems to be a partially whole building. At least it has the potential of having a room. It looks like an old apartment building. With a few holes in its sides and shattered windows, I walk towards the door with caution. It would not do to have something fall upon me. The door is jammed however. I try kicking it and it does not budge. I place my backpack down and back up. I run at the door and fall heavily into it. It cracks then gives. I fall down with it stunned. After gathering my senses I grab my pack and walk cautiously inside. Everything is falling apart, and for the most part it is empty with the few odd pieces of furniture. I cannot believe how lucky I am. I slowly climb up the stairs. My objective is to get onto the roof. I can get a better vantage point there and see where I am…and how close the nearest settlement is.

I make it to the top. I look around. The city itself is quite large even if it is ruined. There may be a map around, I'll have to check for that later. Past the city there is more blank white, then jagged pieces of ice erupt on the backdrop of grey-blue. The ocean perhaps, I turn to look where I came from. There is nothing but forest that seems to go on for miles. Then something catches my eye. The four are walking out of the forest. The apartment that I stand on is very tall, but not too far away from the woods. I can see each one fairly clearly. Did they follow me? I do not think they are hunting me though. They may be looking for a place to evade the storm. I look up.

The clouds are becoming whiter. Snow is coming. But the wind is angry, it will be a blizzard. A really cold one, I need a fire. I have a half filled matchbox with me and a lighter, along with some other odds and ends including my sketchbook, pencils, and a sharpener. I look back down to where the wolves were. They are gone. I go back down the stairs and search the rooms. Most are bare. Mattresses are torn, wallpaper is peeling. There are random books in some rooms. I gather six altogether. There are no blankets, just torn shreds of what used to be. I look around the rooms. And I come upon something unexpected. A piano, in a room with no windows, the wind will not howl at me tonight, I will be safe from it. There is a fireplace in the same room. I seriously cannot believe my luck now. I can have a fire. And I can finally sleep. Not to say that I hadn't slept at all. There were the odd moments throughout the day that lasted ten or twenty minutes. I was too afraid to sleep any longer than that out there. Here I can sleep for at least a day. As long as there were intervals to make sure the fire did not go out.

I gathered as much ruined timber as I could. Ripping them apart from pieces of already ruined furniture, I make a pile of it. The bibles I use as a starter, the furniture would make the actual fire. Once the fire grows I will dry out my jacket, and the rest of my outer wear. It grows nicely, it will take a while for the whole room to be warm, but it is a pleasant feeling. I take off my thin black leather gloves and leave them in front of the fire to dry, then I stick my hands above the flames. The feeling is welcome, my hands are thawing, and it feels like ice is melting off my hands. As soon as the thawing stops the pain of blood rushing back and nerves regaining their ability will set in, after that…motion. My fingers will be able to move again. And they do…I am glad. Looking at the piano, I wonder how much I remember, I should remember something. I have played the piano for over nine years and still do when I can. And recently I miss the feel of smooth keys under my fingers, but warming up must come first. Then food, I have not eaten in three days. The last thing I ate was a sandwich I had fortunately found in my pack. Water would not be a big problem, as long as I have water I can live without food.

Dehydration would be bad. The cold makes it seem as though you don't need water, but your body does. More often then not though, people realize this too late. I could melt snow over a pot…if I find one. Warming comes first, and it is now warm enough for me to take off my hat and scarf. I place them next to my gloves. The hat is made of heavy smooth black wool. And the scarf brings back memories of a home I can't completely remember. My hand roves over the stitches…homemade. I think my mother made it. My memory is fuzzy, but I know it's there. It is as if I cannot reach it, perhaps one day it will all come back to me. I remove my jacket. A black pea-coat covered in zippers and pockets, and lined with plush. Warm, but not nearly enough to keep a lot of heat in this temperature. I am left kneeling in a thin white sweater, whose sleeves are way too long and a pair of patched up jeans and fuzzy tan boots with really thick soles that add three inches to my height.

The warmth makes me feel fuzzy. It is not a lot of warmth, but it is enough, and I have not had proper sleep in four days. I try to stay awake, but my lids feel heavy and even the dingy, dusty floor looks comfortable enough to lie on. Sleep conquers all. My senses give in to the warm fuzzy feeling and I am left to wander in memories I cannot recall, I barely notice the scuffling sound coming from outside the doorway. I do not care anymore. Sleep conquers all.