Snow never woke slowly. She was always awake long before her eyes opened, always immediately aware of everything; her surroundings, her thoughts, what happened before she slept, everything. It didn't matter if she felt sluggish, woke up from a dream, or was only half conscious, she knew everything the moment she felt even a glimmer of her mind waking. It's what she trained herself to do, she couldn't afford waking slowly when she was hunted.
But for the first time since she was fully fledged as an Elytrian, she drifted uneasily into consciousness. A soft keen left her as the sharp pain across her body faded into her skin, nerves lighting up in agony. The broken bones in her wings caused the worst of the pain, every time they were even slightly shifted, or if her muscles flexed to move them, nausea brought on by pure pain would overwhelm her. Dully, she registered feeling slick, grimy and sticky. Her skin itched and she could feel her hair and feathers matting with the liquid.
She forced herself to blink her eyes open and stared at the pool around her. It glistened and shimmered with the lights from beyond the darkness as they moved. Shadows barely visible and rare. She closed her eyes as her vision swam. Blood. Faintly, she came to the realization that she was bleeding to death.
She had no idea how long she had left, no idea how long she had already been here. But she remembered vividly that she'd walked into a trap, set up by the Ram. The same Ram that should have been long locked away. He gored her in the chest, probably would have killed her if it hadn't been for.. Her breath stutters. If it hadn't been.. Fuck, what does she even call him anymore. Nightmare? Who even was he anymore. Her companion? Her friend? Her enemy?
A sudden whoosh of air leaves her lungs and she's forced to struggle for a moment. She can't die now. She can't. She had her kids to find. Her flock. Her nest. They needed her. She couldn't let him find them again. She would sob if she had the capacity to do so.
The pattering of footsteps and the sound of a landing Elytrian has her so relieved that she feels her heart stutter. She kickstarts her body back into gear though. Just because someone is here doesn't mean she's safe. She's still dressed up as a villain. She's still Snow Angel.
She can hear them talking, hear them muttering and whispering, but it's all foreign, hazy and out of focus, like she's underwater. No matter what she does she can't get herself to hear them. That's not a good sign.
The Elytrian croons at her, asking her if she's ok. She's too busy focusing her breathing to respond, building up for it. Then it chirps, asking again. She does her best to respond, but she's not sure if it even noticed. It doesn't ask again however, so it probably did. She feels hands pushing down on a wound and even though it flares with a fury in agony, she doesn't have energy to retaliate.
Then suddenly, she hears it. It's odd at first, wrong, an imitation of one of her calls. Then it shifts to something else, but stutters halfway. Another Elytrian then. But far more familiar? Then it's a completed sequence and it all clicks into place.
The first Elytrian moves her as carefully as it can onto her side, she can tell. Her brain spins violently at the tiny movement but she can't even flinch. Even when another hand comes down to another large wound to put down pressure. She feels fire spread through her nerves.
She takes as deep a breath as she can muster. And responds.
Three clicks. Four wheezing coos. Two wobbly whistles. And finally, with as much strength as she can muster to keep it steady, two signature snowy owl hoots.
'Love' she responds.
She feels like she's run a marathon.
With her chest heaving she tries to do it again. Vibrant strands of bright yellows, soft browns, green, red and black ribbon around her mind and she tries again. The first Elytrian makes sounds that sound like it's trying to persuade her to stop but she doesn't want to. However, she concedes a little bit and skips straight to the two hoots at the end.
'Love' she calls, 'Love'.
She only stops because she runs out of air. Her consciousness starts to slip and this time she doesn't think she minds taking a nap. She found them. She found her chicklings. Her babies. After so long they're only a step away. If she could laugh, she would laugh at the tragedy of it all. After so long of searching, they find her when she's at Deaths doorstep.
Fate is cruel.
Reassuring chirps and crows come from the Elytrian preventing her blood loss from progressing and she finds she doesn't mind it. She focuses on it and realizes it must be trying to keep her from falling asleep.
She appreciates the effort, she thinks.
Behind a waterfall of noise she can faintly make out the sound of distress coming from her fledglings. Distress that is.. Oh.. right... she probably doesn't look too pretty. Hopefully they'll forgive her for it. She croons, calling for them despite her exhaustion.
'Flock' she chortles, 'Flock-Happy-Wish.'
And then the darkness descends.
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Novela JuvenilWith as much strength as she could muster, she takes a deep struggling breath and repeats it with a hefty struggle, each sound wobbly and wheezy. She doesn't even make it to the coos before she feels like she's suffocating. Memories of bright yellow...