I ran for a long time. I was surprised at how far the mice were able to run, but I was even more surprised at how far I could run. I was panting hard and my chest hurt, but I felt good enough to keep going. And there was no way I would let the mice catch me.

I ran until the mice had given up, and a little more after that. The sky had been dark and dusty when we had emerged from the tunnel, but it got slightly brighter as the morning creeped on.

I checked over my shoulder quickly to see if they were still following me. They weren't, but I could still see them, so I ran for a while longer. When I checked again, they were gone.

I slowed to a walk. The air was clear and very cold. It felt wonderful against my chest, which was burning deeply, but my toes were very numb. Slowing down made me realize how much my body was aching and hurting; running felt better.

Why was I in that snowy forest? Why couldn't I remember anything? I didn't even remember my own name!

I could remember some very basic things, such as two plus two equals four and if it rains you'll get wet, but there were so many things I had forgotten. I couldn't remember much logic. (I thought jumping off a cliff is a bad idea was basic knowledge. I was wrong) I couldn't remember my family or my friends. I wasn't sure if I had any. I couldn't remember why I was there or who I was. There was a huge hole in my heart and my mind.

I went over a mental list of what I knew; it was shockingly short. Things I had remembered before, such as the names of the planets or how to multiply numbers, were disappearing. I was forgetting more as time went on.

But there was one memory I caught on to as it was slipping away. I held on to it the way you'd hold on to the few details of a dream.

There was an older dog. He was kind of brown and had a long green scarf. He was yelling at me. I remember feeling guilty. I don't know how or why I remembered any of it. Whenever I'd search deeper in my mind, something else would be slipping away and I'd have to catch it. It was like balancing on a tight rope while carrying an armful of feathers.

As I walked, I got more lost in myself and my memories. It was very frustrating. I would have done anything to remember again.

I should have been paying more attention. I bet there were other dangers in the woods, waiting for me to get a little bit closer before striking. Luckily, nothing terrible happened. If there were monsters, they ignored me.

A brisk noise crashed my train of thought. It was very quiet; I don't understand how I was able to hear it.

I stopped, listening more carefully for the source. It sounded like a girl was crying. It sounded horrible; she was sobbing thoroughly. It was the kind of cry that an innocent person would have before their execution.

Behind a patch of trees, the crying was coming from a husky with creamy fur. She was laying in dirty red snow and her fur was in ugly red clumps. I wanted to comfort her, but I wasn't sure how to do it.

"Ahhhh!" She moaned, choking on her breath. "It wasn't my fault! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I wasn't good enough!" She had a hard time breathing through all her tears.

I felt uncomfortable being near her, but she sounded so hopeless. These were nothing like the sobs of a little child who had lost their doll: This was real, stomach-twisting pain. It scared me.

I wanted to leave her alone. My instincts wanted to walk away, but a part of me I had almost forgotten piped up and made me call out to her.

"Hello?" I said quietly. "Are you ok?"

She immediately became quiet, her chest still shaking. She slowly turned her head around. When she saw me, she began crying as before.

"Ohhh!" She cried. "Please don't hurt me! If you're going to kill me, tiger, do it quickly! I don't want to hurt anymore!"

"I don't want to kill or hurt you," I said quietly. "I heard you crying and I was wondering if I could help."

"What?" She asked. She was still crying, but she sounded hopeful. "You-you want to he-help me?" She sniffled.

I came a little closer, twisting myself through the closely-grown trees. "Um, yeah. You sound upset and your fur looks terrible.

"Oh." She looked over herself. "You're right. I'm sorry."

I stepped away from the line of trees. The whole clearing stank of blood. Her face was wet from tears and snot, and her fur stuck up in clusters of dark maroon. It was surprising another animal hadn't tried to snatch her up; she was like a take-out box of chocolate donuts, ready to be eaten.

I didn't know where to start. There was nothing to clean the blood except for my tongue, and that didn't sound appetizing. (Not that I remembered what blood tasted like. Or what anything tasted like)

What could I use to clean her blood . . . I wondered, looking around blankly. Then I noticed the thing that was everywhere; snow. Ah! That'll work.

The first layer was powdery and flimsy, but a little farther down was more crisp and held it's shape. I grabbed a chunk and massaged it awkwardly through her fur, pulling clumps of fur apart.

"Ouch! That's my skin!" She exclaimed.

"Oh, sorry." I said.

Once she was clean, I could understand her wounds better. I gagged and dry-heaved when I saw them; Her flesh and muscles had been torn apart like turkey on Thanksgiving. She was in one piece, for the most part, but whoever had done this did not want her to survive.

"I don't know anything about wounds," I said hopelessly. "I can't do anything. I'm terribly sorry."

"Oh dear . . ." She said quietly. "I'm so stupid. You should kill me now. Put me out of my prolonged misery. I wanted to live, but if death will come I'd prefer it now!"

"I'm not going to kill you! Look, I could get you to help, but I have no idea where it would be. Do you know this forest? Have you been in it? Do you know of anyone who could help?" I asked.

"I've been in this forest." She said. "My sled team and I ran through it occasionally when we delivered letters. I used to live in Teslin, which isn't too far from here."

"Teslin?" I asked.

She looked up at me. Her dry blue eyes were goopy from all her crying. "It's a really small town in the Yukon."

"Can I take you there?"

She gave a broken laugh. "No, it's several kilometers away over icy rivers and freezing tundra! Have you ever traveled through the Yukon? It has no mercy for petty dogs like me, or even mighty tigers like you! We'd freeze before we getting halfway there!"

I'd never been in the Yukon, at least not that I could remember. But it was very cold and I could see what she meant.

"Alright, is there anything closer?"

"Not that I know of." She said. "But there is a legend. I'm not sure if it's real."

I moaned. "Great."

"But I'm not sure if it's fake! I heard it from Old Bo Bo: he was an experienced sled dog who traveled all over the Yukon. He said there was a beast who lived in these woods. No one knew where she came from or what her name was. Bo Bo told me what species she is, but I forgot. Something really big with antlers and sharp teeth. Anyways, the legend says she is a powerful shaman who can cure any sickness, even death."

"You can't heal death." I said. "Isn't death the end? There's no coming back from death."

"I don't know if she can really do it, but that's what Bo Bo said. And death isn't the end; just the end of our bodies."

I didn't understand what she meant by death isn't the end, but I didn't care right then.

"Where is this shaman?" I asked. "I'll carry you to her."

She folded back her ears. "I don't know . . . Bo Bo said she lived in a cave under the black mountain."

"Where's the black mountain?" I asked.

"There's a mountain with black rocks that way," she pointed to the north with her nose. "But there are lots of mountains with black rocks. And I'm not sure if that's really the mountain he said . . . Maybe it was eagle mountain or elk mountain."

I sighed. Finding the shaman would be difficult, if not impossible.

"I'll go to higher ground so I can see above the trees. Once I see the black mountain, I'll come back and get you. Stay put and don't make any noise." I began covering her with snow.

"Ugh! That's cold, why are you doing that?" She asked.

"I'm covering your scent! You're  sitting duck out here, all covered in blood."

"And how am I sure you won't abandon me?" She whined.

"I'm not sure." I growled. "Maybe I've offered so much help to you so I can just walk away."

She was quiet after that.

<><><><>

The husky was right about it being cold. Once I had calmed down and come to my senses, I realized how deathly bitter the weather was. Everything was frozen; even the air was difficult to breathe. It shocked my lungs every time I inhaled.

There were rivers everywhere. I accidentally fell in a few of them. The water was so cold it felt hot. My fur never dried; the water froze into droplets of ice on my fur.

I climbed up a sturdy tree on the top of a hill. The landscape was dense with trees, interrupted by streams and ponds. Great mountains arose in the North East. They all had black rocks on them, but one seemed to be made of dark igneous rocks. It was surprisingly close, perhaps three or four kilometers away.

Carefully scanning the base of the mountain, I noticed a large dark spot. Maybe it was the cave. Maybe she wasn't crazy.

As I hopped down the tree, I realized how arduous it would be to carry the husky (I probably should have asked her name) to the shaman. What I could have easily ran in a few minutes would take hours with a wounded dog.

I ran to where I had left the husky. When I entered the clearing she lifted her head.

"You came back!" She said with happiness.

"You were right." I said, panting. "There's a big black mountain with a cave at the base about four kilometers away."

"Oh!" She wagged her tail a little. "Thank you! Thank you!"

"I think I can carry you, but is there a chance you can walk?" I asked.

She tried to stand, but she collapsed to the ground weakly.

"Try again." I rumbled.

She did as I asked, but got the same result. I sighed and put her on my back. She clutched onto my neck fur tightly with her claws. I winced but didn't say anything.

"Please hurry." She said. "The cut on my back started bleeding more while you were gone."

I began walking. I wanted to run, but I was afraid to jostle her and open her wounds more. She was surprisingly light and bony.

"I forgot to ask this earlier, but what's your name?" I asked.

"Delphinium." She said. "And your's?"

"I don't know. I can't remember."