The rain doesn't last long. She's glad for that.
Having soaked clothes is as bad as feeling wet ground beneath her feet as she walks. It is disgusting. Her hair is drenched against her back, a few strands fall in her face as she looks around.
Trees, and more trees, and if she looks far enough she can glimpse the start of snow off to the east. She doesn't know how far she's traveled, doesn't really have a clue on anything right now. But she must be far from where she started if she can see snow.
With a shake of her head, water droplets scatter and she lets out a soft exhale out of habit rather than need. The many smells of nature surround her, the different trees, the grass, she can even catch the scent of a juvenile wolf off in the distance.
The sound of ruffling feathers catches her attention, her gaze snapping to an owl perched on a branch. Wide bright eyes glance around in concentration.
Watching and waiting, following any small movement that disturbs the quiet of the morning still shrouded in darkness. Sharp talons pierce and break bark as the owl leans forward when a sound of a twig snaps, but remains still when the noise echoes into other sounds that linger from the night.
Soft tawny feathers lay flat as the animal surveys the surrounding area, blending with the bark of the tree it's chosen as its perch. Silent and unseen from below.
As the sky becomes brighter, slow at a crawl, the owl sits and waits. Patient as always, knowing that something will catch its eye.
And as the animals below begin to waken with the sun, a young mouse becomes reckless in its movements as it emerges from a small burrow, catching the attention of the predator above.
Eyes the color of dried blood watch as the owl dives from the branch, fragments of tree bark fly as talons reach for soft fur. The small animal is defenseless as wings push in momentum, dead leaves, and growing grass stir from the movement.
She watches as the predator leaves her sight. The barely there sound of wind moving through feathers as it flies away reaching her ears. The owl's heartbeat is strong and steady, the prey in its claws not so much.
Young sunlight seeps through the trees, barely reaching the ground beneath. Small specs dance in the light aimlessly, her eyes track the movements in curiosity. She watches everything around her, marvels at the details that are so obvious now.
The different shades of verdant and umber, the colors of the morning sky, everything is so detailed. It would be breathtaking if it wasn't becoming overwhelming with every passing second.
A soft breeze rushes past her, splitting as it touches her back and moves around her as if to remind her to continue moving, and she obeys.
The memory of a taste urges her forward, a silent call to find the source and take, once again. And she follows, lets her feet take her where she's going.
The sounds of the animals that live around, the insects that hide in the grass and other places, all of it blends together and seems to grow louder and louder with each step she takes. Taunting her into finding the source of each sound, nagging at her to pay attention to every one. To ignore the urge under the surface to chase what isn't hers and take everything that would be so easy to steal.
But she can't, the irritation rules out the curiosity and to get away from the overwhelming atmosphere, she starts running. Towards the mountains and snow covered trees. Runs from the pressure and nagging, the sounds that follow her, her past that she can't even remember.
She's running from so much without even realizing it.
Her surroundings are a blur as she moves, silent and deadly. The dropping temperature does nothing to bother her. She can't feel the chill in the air, or the cold of the snow that's blanketing the ground and trees around her. It doesn't bother her. And maybe she should wonder why but she doesn't.
Not when all she can think about is the chaos of sound around her, the stretching echoes of noise that follows her, taunt her. Demand her attention. Not when the ache in her jaw grows stronger, reminds her that there is still something she needs. Something that would calm her thoughts and her overwhelming senses.
A whisper of a promise that seeps into her gums and takes root in her teeth. One that she has to listen to.
Or would if it wasn't for a very faint scent in the air that causes her to pause in confusion. To stop in her tracks and take a breath that fills her lungs with a scent that dulls the burn.
A soft mix of bergamot and leather, a faint almost reminder of a hot summer day. Another lungful and she's addicted. She has to follow it, find the source. There is no question in her mind that second guesses why, she just has to.
So she does. She lets it wash over her as she walks a path that is undisturbed. Follows as if it's the only thing that can relieve her of the chaos that surrounds her.
Out of everything that is overwhelming and new, loud and bright. This faint smell that she follows, chases because she needs to find it is anything but. She can't explain why but it's like something she wasn't even sure she was missing until she found it by mistake.
Her full attention is on following the scent of summer and leather, every other thing fades into the background. Until a very faint murmur of voices catches her attention.
And there is no going back.