Character: Violet B.
Slush
Night came soft and unexpectedly. Sprawled across the edge of the southern slopes, Violet trekked on. Scared and cold, shivering, she burrowed her face further into the synthetic fur (for the animals, as her sister had said).
Deftly, Violet adjusted the straps of her backpack (breaking an inevitable fall, bracing the wind) and slips through beaten down snowy tracks. Her insides shivered, dark and bleak like bleached pine scattered, blending, over ice.
Her throat burned from inhaling sharp wind and head all a tipsy.
She grabbed for the ledge before tumbling over backwards and settled down by the crevice between two rocks. Violet ate up the slush, drank the bitter-tasting poison (called thought) and wondered if she crazy.
And had been for so long.
Behind two valleys, smoke rose high into the sky. Violet moved on (the sugar bowl was there, it must be.)