The Parallel Paths

Black & White

ALICE POV

The shaking intensified, little pebbles hidden within the snow slowly rising upward with the rumble. I knelt down, my gloved fingers gently grazing the crushed ice, wondering what the pure coldness would feel like against my fingertips.

Soon, large amounts of snow began falling from the sky, shifting my attention upward. The snow that had been collected on thick leaves was now falling due to the rattling of the trees and branches.

A heavy, sudden gust of wind hit me, the cold, chilling air flowing through my nose and deep into my body, filling my lungs with ice-cold sharpness.

I inhaled sharply at the feeling and collapsed to the ground, fumbling into the powdered snow while coughing. That air—it felt like I had swallowed a knife.

The low grumble grew into loud crashing chaos. The tallest trees came crumbling down so effortlessly, the pillars of the forest gone in mere seconds from this earthquake that hadn't even lasted five minutes.

The stronger it grew, the more I realized how dire my situation was. Rocks were crumbling, and thick tree trunks snapped in seconds—"impossible" events unfolding right before my eyes.

The cracking of the trees became torturous, the shaking ground making everything feel more intense and stressful. The longer I stared, the faster I noticed my breathing had become, my heart racing quicker than the trembling snow.

I had to run.

I pushed myself up and sprinted through the forest at full speed. Brittle stumps blocked my path, though I managed to hop over them with slight difficulty—I wasn't the best at this sort of thing. My feet pounded through the snow, each step more strenuous than the last.

I dashed forward without watching where I was going. I didn't have time; the massive snow cloud from the fallen trees wasn't something I wanted to get caught in. The closer the cloud got, the more I panicked.

I ran faster, my legs moving subconsciously as I couldn't even pay attention to them—I was just somehow running so quickly. Maybe it was the fear of dying. Though I'd never been scared of death, I would welcome it. Was it really the fear of dying, or the fear of dying without saying everything I needed to say first? Dying with regrets.

The wind flowed through my hair as I ran, the feeling reminding me of riding with my parents back home and sticking my head out of the car window like a dog.

Why was I thinking of this now?

I'd admit, I missed home, but here was better. I had power, control—freedom.

Though I had lost something so important to me, it always made me wonder if it was even worth it.

Lost in my thoughts, I stumbled through the thick white snow, my feet twisting and getting tangled in the hidden roots beneath the powder. I fell with a soft oof, face-first into the snow, taking a mouthful of its cold, grainy contents.

The cloud was getting closer at a rapid speed, the reminder jolting me to pull myself upright quickly, scrambling through the snow and tripping back to my feet. I glanced back one last time—the cloud was less than 100 feet away.

That was all I needed to push myself harder, racing faster, shoving past thin twigs and faltering leaves, trying desperately to make it back to the village.

I thought about Lumi. I wondered if she was worried about me or if she could feel the shaking from atop her castle. But my mind was more focused on myself. I was more worried about myself than anyone else—a strange realization because the old me would never have thought that way.