A personal fantasy of mine, illustrated for me by my brilliant and patient boyfriend TK Dye. The wolf protagonist's my second fursona, and TKD's version of him is way above mine. The story needs some explanation, so here's a text version.

*****

My world's held together by magic, and the Magic needs regular feeding: when it hungers someone has to sacrifice themself to it, be willingly swallowed body and soul. Nobody knows what becomes of those people: they never come out again, not in any recognizable shape.
It's my turn. I'm ready.
I walk through the forest, ears and eyes and nose open. Leaves rich and green above, soft and brown underfoot, cool air, chattering cursing birds, smells of sap and soil and my own self, bright white overcast sky between the branches - and I'm happy. I don't care what follows: I am here and this is now and this time is mine. Living in the moment.
The ground's getting boggy, all pools and mud; I pick my way over stepping stones and plank-walks. I reach the quicksand almost without warning. The trees thin and part, and I'm staring over a great space, wet and yellow-brown under the wide white sky. The forest crowds round on all sides but stops dead at the edge. I know there's a natural pier, an flat outcrop of rock running from the edge out into the quicksand pit; it's submerged but I can just make out its shape, the shallower sand above it being a little drier and paler.
I kneel on a dry piece of ground, and close my eyes. I meditate, make myself aware of the forest, the soil, the rock, the sand, the sky. I open myself to them, let their "spirit" become part of me, part of what the Magic will find inside me. And when I'm ready I stand, straighten my skirts, and walk out along the stone pier, the half-inch of quicksand over it squelching cool beneath my pawpads.

colored version here

Part Two here