09-27-2017, 02:39 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-27-2017, 02:39 AM by Salamander.)
The wind tore through her thin cloak, battering her carapace with powdered ice. The cold easily seeped in between the chitin plates, and she shivered involuntarily. Crim lifted her face to scan the horizon, squinting her eyes against the wind. The land was bleak, and blindingly white. She sighed and tried to scrape the frost from her mask. Her antennae were completely numb and coated in rime. Another burst of wind brought dagger-like hail. “Shit...”, she muttered, wincing and pulling her cloak tighter. The tattered fabric whipped around her as she pushed herself forward. She shouldn’t have wandered so far from her camp. Though, she imagined that freezing to death out here would still be more pleasant than starving in a cave. Under one arm she carried a bundle of old wood, as well as a bag of dried out mushrooms and miscellaneous foodstuff. She’d looted them from the resting place of a long dead adventurer. Apparently she wasn’t the only one risking death to escape the Infection.
Finally, in the distance, she could see her destination: a spire of stone jutting out from the rocky landscape. Hidden underneath was the mouth of a cavern that served as her temporary home. Crim clambered over the icy boulders, carefully balancing herself with her vestigial wings. The wind picked up and howled viciously, threatening to send her careening off the path. She quickened her pace and broke into a run, not wanting to get swallowed by the storm. She stumbled forward into the cave, gasping for breath. The shrieking wind immediately quieted, reduced to a faint whisper by the sturdy walls. Her legs trembled, and quickly went out from under her. She breathed heavily as she lay collapsed on the floor, her frozen body slowly thawing out. “Ugh…” She groaned, peeling her mask from her face. She blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the darkness. After a few moments of dejected self-pity, she rose and ventured deeper into the grotto. A few glowing shrooms lit the way. She'd thought about eating them, but knew all too well that they were deathly toxic. In the far back of the cave was a larger chamber, overgrown with moss and lichen. It was bitingly cold, but still considerably warmer than the storm outside. Crim dropped her bag and settled by the cold ashes of a long dead fire. She set the wood she had gathered aside, as it would have to dry before it could be burned. She absentmindedly flicked a bit of snow off her thorax, and got to work prying the icicles from her antennae. There was no way she’d be venturing out again any time soon. She thought back to the poor soul whom she'd found dead in the snow. Hopefully no one else was out there meeting the same fate.
Finally, in the distance, she could see her destination: a spire of stone jutting out from the rocky landscape. Hidden underneath was the mouth of a cavern that served as her temporary home. Crim clambered over the icy boulders, carefully balancing herself with her vestigial wings. The wind picked up and howled viciously, threatening to send her careening off the path. She quickened her pace and broke into a run, not wanting to get swallowed by the storm. She stumbled forward into the cave, gasping for breath. The shrieking wind immediately quieted, reduced to a faint whisper by the sturdy walls. Her legs trembled, and quickly went out from under her. She breathed heavily as she lay collapsed on the floor, her frozen body slowly thawing out. “Ugh…” She groaned, peeling her mask from her face. She blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the darkness. After a few moments of dejected self-pity, she rose and ventured deeper into the grotto. A few glowing shrooms lit the way. She'd thought about eating them, but knew all too well that they were deathly toxic. In the far back of the cave was a larger chamber, overgrown with moss and lichen. It was bitingly cold, but still considerably warmer than the storm outside. Crim dropped her bag and settled by the cold ashes of a long dead fire. She set the wood she had gathered aside, as it would have to dry before it could be burned. She absentmindedly flicked a bit of snow off her thorax, and got to work prying the icicles from her antennae. There was no way she’d be venturing out again any time soon. She thought back to the poor soul whom she'd found dead in the snow. Hopefully no one else was out there meeting the same fate.