The Russian wind was sharp on her face, like little knives cutting into tan skin. Her lips were chapped and blue, cracking under the extreme temperatures of Siberia. She no longer understood why this was a good idea in the first place, but heaven forbid anyone stop her before she had a stupid-possibly lethal idea.
It's not like there was someone around anyway, for her to rely on.
This was the life of Jessie Solis, an American tourist caught hopelessly bumbling in the middle of a snowing wasteland.
She knew this exchange program was a bad idea. When her school had recommended her for the particular course, it was already out of her comfort zone. She was a known, registered werewolf- planning on going to Russia for a vampiric-centered schedule.
The counselor said it was important for her to experience new cultures, broaden her horizons.
No pun intended.
Instead of a school- or even a reasonable establishment, she was greeted with something close to a shanty town located deep in Siberia. Apparently, the rickety airplane she got on was the wrong one- but in her defense, she had very little time to prepare for this expedition- mainly speaking even a scrap of Russian.
So, navigating around a foreign airport full of signs in gibberish was hard. Even that in itself was an understatement.
The layover in Moscow was her undoing.
As if things couldn't get any worse, the crumbling speck of civilization in front of her mumbled what she assumed was 'no' when she inquired about a place to say. On both sides, the confusion was matched.
And, of course, the hunk of metal was already back in the sky and rapidly shrinking into the dark cloud cover- leaving her completely stranded.
If she didn't die out in the dunes of white, she would surely be mauled by an animal. She didn't have the strength to turn- or even muster up a drop of lupine strength. It was too cold, and her joints were slowly regressing into ice.
She shouldn't have left the town- if you could call it that.
At first, she was following a trail that weaved away from the village and lead to what she assumed was a city. There, she had hoped to book a flight right back to New Mexico. Jessie was officially done with the entire continent of Asia, and she would be pushing it if another foot stepped out of the United States border.
However, it seemed that in the 10 minutes she had begun her trek, a blizzard had decided it was going to assert itself, and with that, cover the dirt path almost entirely in snow.
Now, it had to be more than an hour she had wandered around with no rhythm or reason- dreaming of the heat, the blessed sun in her hometown.
She wished she was back with her abuela, and her scatterbrained sheepdog, El.
She wished that she had never taken this stupid opportunity, which little did she know would be her downfall.
She wished that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, and the castle jutting out of the mountains would disappear.
Was a winter mirage a thing? Did that exist? When your brain became so frost-bitten that you began to hallucinate with whatever was left with your sanity?
Her cheap sneakers were almost completely soaked through at this point, and her toes were numb to a point of concern.
Jessie knew she was about to die. Her fingers were frozen in a permanent clutch at her puffer jacket sleeves, and her ripped jeans did absolutely nothing against the howling winds and screaming. She couldn't tell if the guttural noise was leaving her lips, or from a distant coyote.
Did Russia have coyotes?
A fine last thought, she mused, as her legs finally gave out- and she collapsed into the soft, cool embrace of death.