Snow fell upon her, the tiny flakes chilling her already horribly freezing body to an even worse iciness, though she ignored it to continue her apparently suicidal trek up the mountain. She sloshed through the knee-high snow, mentally cursing the cold and wishing the snow would stop, knowing that she was wasting her breath and if she really wanted to be warm she would go back to her cabin and save herself trouble.

She almost never saved herself from trouble— what was the point, why care: what could she do to stop the world from screwing up?

You can’t stop the snow, but you can get out of it, A nastily reasonable little voice whispered in the corridors of her already feverish brain. You’d be warm.

If my sister wants me to find her goat, I’ll find the damn goat, She hissed back.

The voice gave an amused sniff and retreated into some long-forgotten little room full of every impractical thought she’d ever had. It loved reminding her that she was a highly pragmatic person and ought to just forget about her foolish ideas when she was having them.

She had not taken three more "steps" when the voice came back.

JUST GO BACK! It screeched with such force that she stopped still. The intensity of the little voice gave her a headache.

She brought her hand to her forehead while the voice continued screeching.

With that, she turned around and walked back down the mountain, cursing the voice, the snow, and the cold.