Frogspawn Swamp a lonely cry

It's getting harder to see the prey he's hunting, and that could be because it's just so tiny, or because the sun is going down, but he knows it's something else. He blinks furiously as he loses track of the big, fat toad once again, but it doesn't help him find it. If anything, his vision blurs even more, and Gray's forced to fall back on his haunches as a wave of dizzy hunger sweeps over him. Exhaustion is pulling him down like an increase in gravity, and he hates it.

I'm not old, he thinks to himself, dragging himself back onto his paws. Not yet.

But he's still tired, still hungry, still finding it hard to do the things he used to be able to do. He never should've left the pack.

Gray raised his muzzle in a mournful cry, praying something other than frogsong would answer.