Chapter Text
Webs of snow had been falling forever by then, cycle upon cycle upon cycle of snow. Yet there was rusted rebar sitting underneath it all, with twinkling snowfall that sprinkled the ground for endless miles. It essentially was just some cold metal sticking out a puddle of frosty water.
Above the ice-ridden hunk of metal was a spire, made of nothing more than poles and shoddily strung together scrap. Lanterns made of orange mold had been stuffed into empty husks and been used as light, for whatever decided to live on the mountain.
But it perched, perched on the tallest spire overlooking the meaningless empire of snow and tundra that stretched before itself. Claws wound onto the metal until digits grew cold and numb, yet it continued to perch onto the rebar shrapnel, just staring into the distance.
It closed its eyes and thought for a moment, a paw scratching through its wind-bound fur. The creature’s tail had been swinging behind it in the slowly growing wind and was acting more as a flag than a limb. It always had to practice remembering, filling in details and noting everything down.
Lest it would lose everything it had.
All it had was memories. Memories to lose and memories to never get back.
That was the fragility of the creature, to be weak of the mind; forgetful. Every scratch on metal was made to remember something, a detail too important to be forgotten. It perched and continued to sulk for the moment, dipping its head down and making such an expression.
The creature’s snout wrinkled and lips pulled back to show teeth, eyebrows furrowed together in a wry grimace. It threw itself from the spire and trotted on all of its numb little paws. There was a sourness in its mouth and a bitterness in its heart. It had nothing by now but to watch the slow decay of the world turn by.
As it headed towards its den, it paused and then slowly continued. The creature took a moment to pick up a sharp piece of rebar from the amassed piles of junk, then slowly continued to hobble to its den. The creature had not eaten and satisfied its belly yet, having to do the job just before the cycle would end.
As the winds grew ahead, a tiny skittering creature crawled underfoot. The creature hissed and pounced, paws gripping the small form below. It was just a tiny little small morsel. A wingless batfly.
The fluffy thing hummed and stuffed it between its jaws, chewing thoroughly as it ground the morsel into mushy bits. It was easier to eat prey than search for varied foods in the snowy land. The creature growled and slumped over by some lanterns, soaking in the warmth for a moment as it sat onto the damp snow.
Just living longer was tiring, the creature was beginning to grow frail..
“Forsaken age,” It growled in contempt, huffing and giving a slight pout.
The creature let its joints creak as it continued to slowly limp over into the den. It snatched a lantern from the spike it had been impaled on and crawled into the thrice lined hole that was marked as a shelter. It slid through into the damp and humid crawl space.
Bushes of moss had grown into the shelter, dripping with spoils of little water droplets. A drop had spilled onto the creature’s nose and made it shake its fluffy face. It nuzzled through the foliage and laid down in a pile of soft things. Scavenger fuzz, shed fur, and softer plant material.
The creature flopped onto its side and clawed the sealed opening to the lantern. It scooped out some of the congealed slime mold and began to eat meager portions of the jelly-like goop. Licking between its toes for any residue.
It continued to savor each portion, finishing with wet claws. The creature laid its head down and stared at the wall of the shelter. Intense scratches had been clawed into the stone, making for how many cycles had passed..
Yet as any saint, sinking back into the past was as easy as dreaming. Experiencing every memory of fuzzy details, as if mold had begun to grow onto the memories itself. The creature had to dream, dream to sink back into the past.
The creature in of itself had begun to float down into the inky midst of sleep, the dragging weight of its eyelids forcing itself to sleep.
Click click click.
The shelter doors had begun to intertwine in a series of mechanisms and fold shut, closing the gateway to the shelter indefinitely and creating a safe place to sleep within the humid nest.
And as soon as it slept, the awareness of dreams became all too real..