Lost Creek Hollow there is black coal filling up our homes

@Root

Snowfall greeted him the next time he had brought himself to the mouth of the den, though the accumulation was meager by far. But the dusting signified to him that winter had truly set upon the wilderness, no longer confined to the dotting and peppering of the distant mountains. He couldn't see how snow covered those mountains were from the cover of the Hollow, but he didn't need to see them to know. Restless had entered his body and filtered its way into his soul; the itching of his healing shoulder nothing more than annoyance that had pulled him to the proverbial doorway to give a one-eyed survey the world.

Mordecai ventured out tentatively, those first few solid steps on a much colder earth uncertain at best. Though his shoulder protested such action initially, the pain that was there settled and gave him reason to propel himself forward a bit more. He was careful, and time was at his leisure as the woodland seemingly moved to envelop him. Mordecai drew in the heady scents that the wind carried to him and found for the most part that they remained unchanged. He hadn't seen much of Luke in the days past his visit but knew well enough that the blue-nosed beta was just as steadily at work as Harlyn no doubt found herself.

No more than a few minutes into his venture past the grove he had been tucked away to, he brought himself to halt along a narrow band of water that coursed its way through the forest. It was as good of as place to collect himself once more and take a bonus, he could quench a budding thirst. His muzzle hovered over the thin layer of ice as he neared the water, his weight shifting ever so slightly in the damp earth to break through it with a paw. He did not pause for some reflection of the twisted matting of healing skin that once housed an eye and drank instead.

He did not need to see to know it was gone.

murder by death — steam rising