Archive of Our Own ^beta

We were taught at a young age to follow the two-legged creatures. Never follow them too far, but if they were out walking and we could feel the bite of cold beneath our fur, we were to walk at their heels, especially when the sky grew dark. The two legs could create a strange light that would hurt if touched, but if not touched, it was comparable to lying in the sun.

I remember not trusting the first two legs I met. They had been stumbling over the snow, using a stick to help them walk. It was like they didn’t know they could use their other limbs to help them balance easier. It was funny watching them from the safety of the trees, tucked under a bush so they couldn’t see. The sun was sinking in the sky, and the bite of the wind had me shaking, but despite the stories, I couldn’t bring myself to approach the creature. The stories all mentioned the hot light, but the two legs didn’t appear to be carrying any, just the stick. I watched them walk closer to the woods, and remember worrying that they would spot me. All of the stories said two legs were friendly, but that was my first-time meeting one.

As the sun sank more, the two-legged creature began gathering more sticks, much smaller than the walking one. They stacked them in a little pile, as if they were trying to build a nest, but none of the stories of two legs mentioned them sleeping like birds. My ears perked up at the sharp scraping sound, but then it happened. The warm light from the stories appeared in the nest. I wanted to see if the stories were true, and slowly made my way over to the creature, leaving the safety of my bush.

They didn’t chase me off when I sat by their warm light. They made some weird chirping sounds before they tossed me something with a strange scent that made my nose itch, but the creature took a bite off of a larger piece, indicating that what they had thrown me was food of some sort. It was hard, dry, and the flavor was off putting, but it was still food, and food was difficult to come by in the cold.

That had been my first experience with a two-legged creature. They didn’t stay long, but another two legs came by less than a full moon cycle later. Then another one, and another one. One the coldest of nights, there weren’t any two legs, but they would always come back once the air hurt less. They would never stay long, always just passing through, but it was always a pleasant surprise to run into one, especially when they had extra food, or stopped to make warm light.

It was one of the coldest days, the kind of days where it was a guarantee that no two legs would walk by. At least, that was what I thought. One of the two legged creatures came into view while the sun was still out. The wind was sharp, cutting right to the skin, but the two legs didn’t seem to mind. I crawled out of the small den I was hiding away in and stretched before going over to greet the creature. It was difficult to breathe in the cold, but despite that I could tell that their scent was new. Some two legs would walk by every few months, and they seemed to remember me. This one didn’t know me, and I didn’t know them, but he didn’t shoo me away, so I walked at his heels.

As much as I was looking forward to the warm light and potential food, the cold was becoming unbearable. The two-legged creature didn’t seem concerned about the frost in the air that appeared with every exhale. He just kept walking. While two legs normally didn’t come out while it was this bad, they all knew to stop and make a warm light to combat the cold. Why didn’t this one make warm light? Every two legs knew how to make the warm light, that’s what made them special, but this one wasn’t stopping to even try.

The drool around the creature’s mouth froze over as we continued on. It had a familiar scent of something the other two legs would chew on sometimes. It had a bad smell, but the wind changed directions and saved me from having to breathe it in.

As we neared the creek, I kept looking up at the two-legged creature, waiting for him to stop, waiting for him to gather the small sticks needed for warm light. He didn’t stop. I could feel the weight of the frost sticking to my fur, slowing me down as we walked. The two leg was also moving at a more sluggish pace, their feet dragging in the snow as they continuously wiped their face, probably trying to knock the ice off. The faint smell of fear began to creep up as they kept rubbing their face, and he appeared to be more mindful with each step, but there was still a moment when they hit a patch of ice and almost fell. The sound of the ice cracking beneath their feet was concerning, but they hurried away from the ice once they had regained their balance. Walking on the frozen water had its challenges, but balance was easier on all four limbs. Perhaps they needed a stick to aid them, like the first two legs I met. Or even better, a nest of sticks to make warm light.

Instead, the two-legged creature stared at the frozen creek, rubbing their face some more before taking some hesitant steps forward. It was obvious that the two leg was frightened of the environment. The previous two legs all appeared confident and somewhat intelligent. They knew when to stop and sit around their warm light. This two leg was different. Despite the cold and their almost fall, they kept walking.

What if they couldn’t make warm light? The wind was only getting harsher as we walked. Was it worth following them anymore? They hadn’t given me a bite of food, or a promise of warmth like the other two-legged creatures had. It would be much warmer at this point to dig down and curl up in the snow just to keep the wind off of my skin. The sun was still up though, and the creature who had no fur seemed insistent on pushing forward, so I stayed by their heels. Maybe they were waiting for the sun to sink before making warm light?

The two-legged creature almost fell through the ice again at some point, not paying attention to the dips in the surface. For the first time in our journey, they seemed to acknowledge me. We locked eyes, and I couldn’t stop the little wag in my tail. Were we about to stop?

The two legs stepped towards me, reaching out with their other two limbs. Other two legs in the past would sometimes pat my head, or scratch my ears, but they never approached me like that. I couldn’t help the nervous whimper that escaped as the creature pushed me forward onto the ice. Without thinking, I scrambled to run off, not trusting the shifting weight beneath my paws, but one part was too weak to support my weight, and suddenly my legs were in the water.

I yelped as the water on my fur froze almost instantly. It hurt more than the sharp wind. I tried to shake it out, but the ice was stuck. I carried myself over to the snow and laid down, not trusting the frozen creek anymore. I began biting the chunks of ice that had formed in between my paws. The pads on each of my paws didn’t have any protective fur on them. They could not be left in the ice for long.

To my surprise, the two-legged creature removed the covering on one of their extra limbs and began helping me tear the ice away from my paws. They couldn’t help for long, their own paw growing far too cold in the exposed wind, but the assistance was nice while it lasted. Even if the whole situation was the two legs’ fault.

They reached into the opening in their coverings and pulled something out. It smelled like food the other two legs would bring, but the cold air was making it difficult to breathe, and therefore difficult to smell. The creature tried to take a bite, but they couldn’t open their mouth. They stared at the food in their paws, looking as if they had just realized something. They made a sound that often was made when two legs were happy, but I didn’t see the joy in our situation. They couldn’t eat, and I was covered in ice. We were both cold and hungry. We needed that warm light.

The two-legged creature stood up, kicking their legs against the ground for some reason. They would flail their two other limbs, take a few steps, and then kick some more. There wasn’t any ice on their limbs, so the extra movement didn’t make sense, but two legs were strange creatures in general. Maybe that was just something they did?

Once they were done kicking, the two legs finally did the thing I had been waiting for them to do. They gathered a bunch of nearby sticks and began building them into a nest. It wasn’t as nice as the other two legs’ nests, but I wasn’t going to complain, so long as it could hold the warm light. They rubbed two tiny sticks together in their hands very quickly, causing a spark. They added the tiny sticks to the next, and within moments, there was a pile of warm light glowing next to them.

I wasted no time hurrying over to lay out next to the light, sitting as close as possible while still avoiding injury. I didn’t even care to beg for a piece of their food at that point. All I wanted was to lie there, absorbing the warmth the light had to offer until the next sunrise. The two legs had other ideas though. Once their food was gone, and all of the ice had melted from their face, they stood up and continued walking again, leaving the warm light behind. I knew they had places to be, and other two legs to find, but I just wished we could’ve stayed by the warm light a little longer. I could’ve stayed behind, but the warm light never stayed long once the two legs left. It would die out, and then there wouldn’t be any two legs around to make another one. At least all of the ice had melted off of us before we continued on.

The creature let out a sharp whistle before barking something at me. They must’ve sensed my hesitation about leaving the warm light. Normally the other two legs wouldn’t bark at me in such a way. They would know it was time to take shelter out of the wind. This two leg was new though. They didn’t know the cold, or how dangerous it could be.

They eventually fell through the ice. I knew how bad it felt to get wet in weather this bad, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about the creature’s situation. It wasn’t all that long ago when they pushed me into a similar situation after all. They yelled, clearly upset over their legs getting wet and then freezing over. The ice on their legs did prompt them to make another pile of warm light though. I joined them at the light again and silently hoped that we’d stay by this one for a little longer.

The two-legged creature pulled out a shiny looking stick-like object when the worst happened. The snow that had piled up on the tree above us finally broke the branch of the tree clean off, burying our warm light in cold powder. All I could do was wrap my tail around my paws to keep them warm and wait for the creature to build another one.

The problem was the tiny sticks. The two-legged creature couldn’t seem to hold them anymore, their paws were way too frozen. They managed to use their teeth like a normal
creature, but the small warm light that appeared on the end of the tiny stick fell into the snow, dying almost instantly. That seemed to push the creature over the edge. They grabbed every tiny stick and struck them all at once, resulting in them holding the warm light in their hands. The smell from the light overheating their skin was pungent, but it again didn’t last long, since the light died quickly.

The two legs started at me, and I shifted uncomfortably in place. I couldn’t create warm light to help, that was their job. They began chirping at me, their noises a higher pitch than what I had heard earlier. Something was wrong. I whined at the sudden change in their voice and took a step back. This two-legged creature wasn’t like the other ones, and I had no idea what they were about to do. Last time they reached for me, they shoved me across the ice. I pressed my ears flat against my head and took another step back as the creature began moving in closer. The creature paused for a moment, watching me carefully before standing up on two legs again.

They must’ve decided it was time to walk again. My ears perked back up as they barked something to me, sounding more like they did before. I walked back over to assume my position at their heels when the creature lost control and lunged.