Jade Fern Grove The Five Stages of Grief: Denial

When she barges forward, the coyote takes off. She hadn’t expected anything less. Dark eyes narrow in, searching for familiarity and she realizes that most coyotes tend to look alike. At least to her. This one seems smaller, though, narrowed from winter, and even lighter in fur color and she’s surprised by the few seconds it takes for her to jump to the conclusion. Her loping form takes a few large lunges, forcing the little canine forward through the snow before she comes to a stop.

Root’s chest heaves, forcing breath out in front of her face, and begins to pick up a trotting speed to circle her way around. The distance the coyote covered by the time she’d stopped is surprising and she picks up her own speed, darting through the snow once more to close the distance.