Turns out I wrote for the wrong prompt, so here is the story for the right one!
Deep beneath the snow, where only cold darkness reigns, time stands still. My body is too numb to shiver, and I only feel unending pain.
Focus, I remind myself. I chose to be here.
And I did, but I can’t remember why. Only panic and pain.
My stomach churns, a small knife of heat cutting through my core. I scream, snow falling into my open mouth. Warmth should be good, should be helpful. Instead it’s a new torture as it spreads from my core to my extremities. I can only choke and beg for death, my mind not even remembering where I am anymore.
I cry out as my fingertips light on fire, warm heat pooling down them, and a surge of strength helps me dig at the snow around me.
Moments ago I didn’t even know where up was, but now I break through my tomb with an instinct I don’t understand. The snow shifts around me, falling on me, but as I cry and choke, freezing wind whips over my wet fingers. A frantic desperation pushes me through the snow, clawing my way to freedom.
The first gasp of frigid air sears my lungs, and I inhale again and again as my body craves oxygen. Sunlight blinds me, and I finish digging myself out. Once my vision focuses and my breathing settles, I finally notice blood stains coating the white snow and my thick fur.
A roar rips from my maw.
I’ve survived my first polar bear shift.
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