Honeyed Pasture Wonder It Better

Weary paws padded along, Sirona's muscles screaming to stop. But she couldn't. She had to persevere, had to stay sane. If she stopped, the thoughts would come, the barrage of guilt and nostalgia and pain. She couldn't let that happen.
Amber optics scanned the expanse of greenery around her. It was a warm summer, and Sirona's thick coat was not well-suited to it. She yearned to visit the mountains in the distance, but all she could muster was a muffled groan as she collapsed, exhausted from her swim and her trek. Perhaps it would be nice to just watch the setting sun paint the firmament with fiery hues, with rosy pinks and a golden glow.

@Birk Here's the thread!