The Days Grown Old

Staggering while the snow piled around your feeble paws, you emitted a whiney howl into the storm. An echo would follow but nothing else. You stood there shivering, the frost threatening to take your limbs. Then, the figures in the distance, wolves like yourself, crowded together, marching through the merciless snow. You could tell they were not getting closer, farther rather. Your first selfish act was already underway as you bounded after them, tiring easily as your siblings became more and more distant before their faces were only memory. The more you tried to catch up with them, the further the group seemed to be, and soon, you lost all reference as to where you were completely. The dream returned to your consciousness and a weight formed itself in the pit of your stomach. It was eerily similar, and it was all so convincing now that you were seeing more figures around. The wolves you thought you saw must have been hallucinations just the same.