Then... It was gone...
As quickly as the snow had started, it had disappeared. The wind halted, and even the cold had subsided.
Uncurling from my crouched position, I look around, startled to see that everything has returned to normal. I'm sitting in mud in the middle of a field. The same field. The sun is shinning, just like before. This close to the ground, I can see tiny flower buds peaking up from the foliage. Not a leaf out of place.
After a moment, I did what anyone would probably do. I swore out loud, scrambled up, and ran.
Where I'm going, I don't even need to think about. I follow the path at top speed, sprinting towards the river cutting through the woods. Coming up to the bed, I slow down and follow the rapids upstream until I find my tree, the tree I was heading for when I first left the house.
The old maple had fallen down ages ago, spreading it's long branches out across the water, reaching out as if to grab the opposite bank. By the time I get to the upturned roots, my heart is pounding and I'm completely out of breath. After a minute, I begin climbing, cautious of the wet mosses. My favorite spot is in the middle, where I can sit in a crook in the branches and dangle my feet right above the water.
My Throne. This is my spot, the only place I have never let anyone else see. Well, no one except Quasar, of course. It's hard not to feel like the ruler of the world when you can look up and down a rushing river from this point of view. Even better than the roof.
A shadow lurks in the corner of my vision. "Well, look who finally decided to show up," I comment snarkily, seeing the dragon on the other bank. "Where were you five minutes ago when I got attacked by a blizzard? In the middle of April!" I'm not really mad, but the experience has me wound up like a coil. I expect Quasar to laugh mockingly at my tension, as he always does, but his sharp eyes adopt a serious, almost startled look.
"I was elsewhere," He turns his head, seeming to be contemplating something.
A comment that would usually confuse me, now simply frustrates me. "'Elsewhere'? Where else could you be? Though I suppose it would be futile to even ask, you never say anything helpful." I suddenly remember all the times I've ever asked Quasar a question about himself. Realizing, that he's never answered a single one. I say this out loud.
Quasar looks at me, with an indiscernible expression. "No. I suppose I haven't. Although, as a figment of your imagination, certainly I should be unable to keep any secrets from you."
"Obviously! So how can I not know anything about you? Everything else is so detailed that it makes my head ache if I focus on it for too long!" I trow my hands up in the air, tired of his cool composure. I turn towards him again, finding his scaly face only inches from mine.
"So, what you mean to say is, the only possible explanation would be that I... perhaps... am not simply a being of your own creation... Am I correct...?