The freshly fallen snow crunched and partially crumbled beneath the weight of her paws. Despite how delicate she strove to be the latest snowfall was a thin powder that shifted at the barest touch. It made her progress slow and her patience even thinner. The snow leopard knew she needed to leave this area, had scented the smell of another predator and a pack of them for that matter. Wolves did not take too kindly to tresspasses. But these wolves were different from the others she had encountered before. A scent beneath the woody pine that clung to their fur. A two-legged scent. Yet... not. It itched at the back of her mind, of a memory that had been hidden and closed off behind the walls built by a child to keep the nightmares out and survive alone.
The snow leopard had not witnessed her mother raped and throat slit in front of her. The snow leopard could not have seen seen her brothers hacked to death. No, snow leopards were loners who chose the company of epic landscapes and the warm embrace of solitary pathways untrodden by man. Those memories were not the snow leopards and thus the snow leopard had no reason to grieve, to feel pain.
Her needs were far simpler. Food, shelter, survival.
She stopped as a flock of crows suddenly leapt from the nearby treetops in a cacophony of squawks and the flapping of wings. Her eyes tried to track as many of them as possible as they darted into the sky in different directions to determine if they were the threat before turning the thick foliage from which they had flown. Searching. Was that a flicker of movement? Her lips parted and she raised her head a little to try and catch the scent on the faint wind that blew across the landscape. Nothing. Still she held her position for a beat or two longer, one paw raised in the act of stepping, as she weighed up the odds. Eventually paw met snow and she continued on her way.
Food. Shelter. Survive.
Ignore the scent that makes you think of memories you cannot have.
The snow leopard had not witnessed her mother raped and throat slit in front of her. The snow leopard could not have seen seen her brothers hacked to death. No, snow leopards were loners who chose the company of epic landscapes and the warm embrace of solitary pathways untrodden by man. Those memories were not the snow leopards and thus the snow leopard had no reason to grieve, to feel pain.
Her needs were far simpler. Food, shelter, survival.
She stopped as a flock of crows suddenly leapt from the nearby treetops in a cacophony of squawks and the flapping of wings. Her eyes tried to track as many of them as possible as they darted into the sky in different directions to determine if they were the threat before turning the thick foliage from which they had flown. Searching. Was that a flicker of movement? Her lips parted and she raised her head a little to try and catch the scent on the faint wind that blew across the landscape. Nothing. Still she held her position for a beat or two longer, one paw raised in the act of stepping, as she weighed up the odds. Eventually paw met snow and she continued on her way.
Food. Shelter. Survive.
Ignore the scent that makes you think of memories you cannot have.