3. Snow begins to fall in thick, heavy flakes. You feel a strong, unbearable need to shelter under the tower. As soon as you lie down, you are beset by powerful sleepiness, and unable to get up. When the snow began falling, she ignored it. The snow was comfortable and familiar. It wasn't something to find uncomfortable or worth being worried about, especially not with her thick pelt. The snow covering the ground dampened the sound of her hooves and let her pretend easier that she was truly in the body of a wolf, her true body, the one that her soul was meant for. It made it easier to breath, to take in the biting air that burned down into her lungs. So long as she could keep running and ignore her hooves, her horns, her scales, her spines, she could find a moment of wholeness here in this foreign-familiar-world, in this place that was meant to be her home. This was the land of her dreams with snow and biting winds that burned when she breathed and ran through her fur.
The wind was blowing harder now, trying to push her off course, though she didn't really know where she was running. She only knew that that was what she was meant to do. That was what she was born to do, to run. Even wihtout her pack with her, she felt more natural here in this land that wasn't the Swamp that she was born in than she had ever felt since her naming dream had birthed her in frost and wind. If her pack was here with her, it would be almost perfect. She could almost here their pants and their paws, their yips and howls. She could see it so clearly and she wanted it so much, but it wasn't to be.
The wind was pushing her off to the side so she let it. She let it direct her course as naturally as packs change direction between one breath and the next. She ran with the wind lifting her up, pushing her forward, and racing past her. She flew across the ground with each bounding step. Faster and faster she ran until suddenly she was standing in front of a tall smooth-faced tower. She stared up at the tower in wonder but the sudden feeling of sleepiness that overtook her alarmed her. She didn't want to leave this place, the place of her dreams and the place she belonged. The snow fell down thicker and thicker, dragging her down towards the ground. She resisted, stumbling around the tower, trying to keep moving because movement was life.
Finally, it became too much and she folded underneath the snow, landing sprawled on her side as she stared up at the sky beneath heavy lids as the snow fell down and down just like her consciousness was sinking lower and lower into the darkness of sleep until she lost her vision of the snowy land of her dreams.
She woke suddenly and shook, she felt an unexplainable longing that was the same and yet not the same as the longing she always felt. She felt a phantom coldness that she thought must have been a dream. When she rose though, snow fell of her fur to floor. She was certain it was there even though she couldn't see it because it had melted the moment it fell. She was certain and it could make her howl in agony.