Mistic Pets

The first thing that I can remember is the cold.

Its icy fingers nipped at my skin and awoke me from my sleep with my body’s violent shivering. I recall being very confused, not only because of the haze of drowsiness that still clouded my mind but also because I had never felt such a sensation before. Yes, the rising desert moon brought with it a nasty chill, but it was nothing compared to the numbing, biting frigidity that I felt as my eyes slowly opened. I could feel my lungs heaving, and just barely make out the faint white clouds that puffed from my mouth as my miraculously hot breath met the frosty air. A monotone world greeted me as I came to; there was the white of the snow and the black of the sky. Not even the moon was there to comfort me – simply her many children, the stars infrequently dotting the night sky that was almost as barren as the tundra in which I had awoken.

Though as I slowly regained consciousness, it was not the frozen wasteland before me that caused me the most concern; it was the silence that enveloped it. Even for the tundra it was quiet. No wind howled, no small paws pitter-pattered across the snow, and no birds chattered overhead as they journeyed for warmer waters. There was only the heavy feeling of dread that crept over my shivering body.

I attempted to lift my head to survey my surroundings, but the cold had numbed and frozen my muscles; after a few inches, I only collapsed back down with a soft thud on the snow. So I simply lay there, wide-eyed and breathing heavily for Pandoria knows how long.

And then something curious happened – warmth began to creep over my icy body.

I felt my pounding heart slow, my chest stop heaving, and my eyelids grow heavy. The warmth seemed bittersweet, and I would later learn that it was, but at that moment I welcomed any relief from the cold. The already fuzzy world around me dulled as the warmth carried me into the loving arms of sleep. In the distance I could hear voices, growing louder as their owners closed in on me, but by then I was too far gone to care. Even as I felt one of their iron-toed boots kick me hard in the stomach, I could only snort softly. I felt something sharp and cold thrust into my side. My eyes didn’t even open. Then, out of nowhere, I heard a voice, quiet but firm, whispering something in my head:

“Get up.”

I ignored it at first, but it came again, louder this time:

“Get up.”

I didn’t want to leave this warmth, this realm between reality and sleep, but my muscles began to ache, and the voice persisted.

“Get up.”

“Get up.”

“Get up.”

“GET UP!”

Suddenly, I felt a great force heave me off of the ground and onto my feet. My eyes ripped open and I reared up, pawing the air and roaring before I took off in a dead sprint. I had no idea where I was running, or even why; all I knew was that I had to run. I didn’t even pay mind to the group of Ahbruis hunters chasing after me, shouting obscenities and waving their spears in the air, nor did I notice the large Quari-jaw hunting knife sticking out from between my ribs.