Chimera Fields I only feel gravity and I wonder why

In the summer, this place was beautiful.

As June wandered drunkenly across the field, she remembered the flowers in bloom. She blinked hazily—were they still there? Between her paws there seemed to sprout tiny flowers, but it was all a figment of her imagination. There were no flowers. The locusts had taken care of all of the tender buds, and it would be another year before the flowers made a comeback here. But June was too far gone to notice that she was delusional, and she dropped her head to sniff at a nonexistent bulb peeking up from between her toes.

The yearling was gaunt in all the wrong ways. June had always been a slight thing who did not consume a lot of food, and now she was paying the price for it. She consumed little, but that didn't mean she was equipped for famine conditions. In fact, it was the opposite. As June did not feast in the same manner as other wolves, she had fewer reserves than other wolves. Starvation had set in long ago, and having eaten nothing in about a month, the Silvertip had lost over 30% of her body weight. Her fur hung limp on her frame, doing little to conceal the jut of ribs and hips. She no longer had the strength to hunt, and even if she did, she would selflessly have given it to someone else to consume.

June had done herself in, and never even realized it. As she attempted another shaky step, the youth lost her balance and collapsed. She would never rise again; all she could do was draw ragged breaths as her heart frantically fluttered in her chest, but her energy was gone. She would be conscious only a little while longer, during which her wild orange eyes would roll to the mountain in the distance. "Mase," she muttered weakly, but it was the last word her lips could form as the last of her energy was sapped and she lay still.

Several hours later, a crow hopped across the dead wolf's thin shoulders and plucked at a chocolate-tipped ear.