[SilkiyTea]

Name: Anira
Real Age: 14
Age In The Dream: 14
Dream Type: Uncertain
Subject: Cold

There was a sharp pain in Anira's chest. Her eyes cracked open, the lids felt heavy. Caked in frost, and ice. She could feel the color drained from her. How cold it was, even the fur from the beast-potion did little to halt the biting frost. Far, far away. She saw the golden light of her home. The sounds of laughter, charm, joy. It was not just a few of her friends, it was all of them. And everything sounded so crisp. So full. So alive! Anira took a single step forward, when a familiar voice speaks from behind her. "It's cold here." The girl teetered in her step. Reaching out behind her to reenact an older dream. To pull the Dreamwalker with her and towards the warmth that was so distant.

What she touched? Was colder than anything she had ever felt. It was so, so cold that it sucked the breath out of her. Anira yanked her hand away and turned about to face it. There it sat. Crouched over in a humbled pose. The Dreamwalker's lantern barely glowed, the amount of ice that hung onto it made the creature look less like itself, and more like a sculpture of it. There was no green glow from within its eyes. Anira stared, for the longest time. "I'm not going to leave you here." Her voice sounded coarse, it felt like she had been screaming for hours, and hours...

There was no reply. Just the silent frosted visage of the thing that guided her dreams. Anira sat besides it, folding her legs beneath her in a criss-cross style. It was quiet here, it was cold here. Time progressed, and the night sky grew darker. The blizzard grew thicker, until the distant lights of her home was just this... Tiny, tiny speck that she could barely see. "To bring happiness to others, first, you must bring it to yourself." Even the Dreamwalker's voice felt distant. But, it was right there, Anira could see it, unmoving and always watching. But, Anira could not smile for once, she was always smiling. Always happy. Always, and forever.

Anira rocked back and fourth in the growing snowstorm. It was piling up. Inch by inch. Threatening to envelop her in an icy and unrelenting embrace. "What if I can't be happy?" It had taken what felt like hours to ask that question. And by that time? She had already succumbed to the darkness of the snow.

Another sentence, beneath another dream.

I have so many friends. But I feel so alone.