Silver Moraine Like a colour lost in shade

His energy was spent. The storm that seemed to follow him across the valley finally broke at the crack of dawn and Ephraim, driven so far past the point of exhaustion that he could hardly think, collapsed in a heap on the rocky ground. Every muscle in his body screamed for reprieve. His belly was too heavy with deep-rooted fear and the nausea that accompanied it for him to feel hungry, but his throat was raw and dry from the cries that had wracked it throughout the night. There was no water, though.

Every time he had tried to stop or seek shelter, the sky had bellowed again, awaking the animal within and sending Ephraim scrambling away again. He had run farther than any pup his age had any right to be able to run, and then some. Fear was a wonderful motivator and its effects on him were godly. Even as he lay with his face pressed into the ground, sobbing helplessly and unable to muster any strength to lift himself back up, his ears were fully erect and scanning for the clash in the skies that would send him running once more.

But the storm had broken, leaving only a gentle rain to wash over Ephraim's battered and muddied body as he dizzily fought to hold onto his consciousness.