One Foot In Front of the Other

You are not you are not you are not you.

A body that is not yours. The first sensation: a throbbing, smothered pain. You are already smart enough to know that if this is the first sensation that breaches the murky waters of undeath, then surely there must be so much more pain below. It's the... neck? That is what this is called, yes? The new body stiffly lifts its hands at your command, gripping its head and turning it into what you believe is the proper position, that subtle pain turning into wracking agony for a brief moment before subsiding as the body repairs itself with the help of your magic.

You can't see through its eyes, not yet, but you still know what you need to do. You drag your new body to its feet, jolting, shaking, spasming, but moving nevertheless. It stumbles, and fumbles, gripping at what you learn to be a 'doorknob' and throwing the door open, staggering out and into... something. Whatever it is, it crunches underfoot.

One foot. In front of the other. This feels so strange! The chill stings like you could have never imagined, but it's almost an excitingly novel sensation. Such a fresh shell, so alive with sensation. This is an experience of the First Plane that you have never had; the world is ever so different for the Anima, and this confirms as much for you.

One foot - in front of the other. One foot - in front of the other.

You start to steady out as you gain control. You practically wash over the body, your soul sinking into its synapses and reclaiming its senses for your own. You feel it out. The body's fingers flex as yours do. Your vision steadies, though you have to push its hair out of its eyes to see. At first, a mere blurry smudgy gradient of white and black, where snow meets treeline meets sky, still and deafeningly quiet but for your stiff, shaking march.

One foot - in front of the other. One foot - in front of the other.

Its teeth chatter; you find yourself unable to stop it. It shakes like a leaf as icy winds howl across its exposed skin, the winter biting down to the bone. You keep the body lurching forward, step by unsteady step. The scene unfurls around you; dark woods overlooked by Erriyt, your body stumbling between the trees and frequently having to hold onto them for support.

One foot - in front of the other. One foot - in front of the other.

Its head aches so terribly. Though you've fixed its broken neck, some phantom pain yet lingers that you can't escape. Worst of all, it feels so, so tired... but that weariness starts to break, bit by bit, as you carry your new body further and further from the jaws of death. A numb, shaky mitt turns into a hand, icy bark digging into your fingers so vividly as you lean into a tree for a moment. You feel the snow between your toes, and the little dusting building on your shoulders.

One foot - in front of the other. One foot - in front of the other.

You don't know where you're going, but you do. You find a road and follow it without even noticing, the shell's lingering memories guiding you where you need to go. You just keep trudging, and trudging, and trudging, soon no longer even able to lift your feet, dragging long trenches through the snow. Even your magic can't keep this body alive forever, so you only hope that it's taking you in the right direction.

Finally--finally--you find it. Absentmindedly, singularly focused on maintaining enough willpower to keep going, you wander into a village. Shambling, convulsing, your skin deathly pale and not even so much as breathing, you find yourself suddenly under lamplight, snow dancing past you. You hear others! Far away shouting, and crunchy footfalls racing your way, you stop still, letting them find you.

You are complete. Your sensation is total; the indistinguishable clamor of chatter in the distance washes in, becoming clear speech. You don't understand them, but you know they're friends, somehow. Three men come to an unsteady stop in front of you, stunned into silence as you just stand there. You're confused, naked, draped with snow, clearly frostbitten, and... supposed to be dead.

One of the men takes a few cautious steps towards you. Quietly, his voice shaking, he asks: "J... June? Oh my God..."

With a seizing hand, you reach up, brushing your fringe to reveal your eyes. As he locks gaze with you, you read clear terror on his face.

"... N-Nate?"