Jade Fern Grove the mitochondria are the powerhouse of the cell

it was a day benefitting the Between, the kind of slow, heavy day that was disturbed only by the periodic spitting of rain from the heavens. her fur was already bristling with moisture, a thousand tiny droplets scattered on the hare-brown fur. earth coated all four paws, and she blinked quickly to keep away the wet. it was one of those in-between times, when the fog and spitting drizzle ensured that she wasn't quite comfortable, not quite dry, but still, the sky had not broke. 

letting slip another of her signature moans, yet this one more a content-sounding whistle than her usual dreary sound, she picked her way along the game trail, hoping for luck to fill her knotted stomach. she appeared particularly ghastly this day, the wet obscuring further what little scent she carried, slicking down her pelt around her jutting ribs. in this knowledge she was content.