09-17-2018, 12:06 AM
[div style="margin: 0 auto; width: 60%; font-family: georgia; font-size: 13pt; text-align: justify;"]He could feel the pressure of the leather harness pressing down on his shoulders. The cold ice and snow underfoot, the labored breathing of his team following at his heels. The call to turn left reached his ears and his body reacted without even a single thought. This year was the year that he would lead his friends to victory. Lost in the idea of placing first, he forgot to look to where he was going. The Siberian husky slowed down his pace, the image of running back home in Alaska faded away, giving way the trees and dirt around him. Victor slowed his pace, his hind leg searing with pain. He had pushed too hard, and now he would suffer the consequences for the next few hours. Dropping his pace down into a walk, he looked about, unable to recognize where he was. The scent of The Typhoon was nonexistent, replaced with something rather potent. Coming to a half he looked around, sides heaving as he worked to catch his breath. Blueish green eyes looking about, he admitted to himself that he had manged to get himself lost. Still rather unfamiliar with this part of the world, it would be a trying task to get back.