Whitefish River I'm comin' home

@Heldi

He was alive, but barely. His eyesight, while not completely returned, allowed for mostly shadowed figures and fuzzy outlines of the world around him. Still, it was something. It had been barely enough to get over the mountain, and the cuts and scrapes that ranged over his body told of the tale. The skinnier he got, the more easily his skinned seemed to split.

He had made it to the river, and he dropped down beside it, his paws dipping in the water as he lowered his head to drink. The sun was hard on his eyes and he kept them closed as much as possible during the day. Thankfully, today was mostly cloudy, so he could squint and get by. He knew he was headed in the direction home, he just wasn't sure if he'd make it. His eyes caught movement in the river as fish swam by. Part of him wanted to fish, but part of him just wanted to lay here. His energy was dwindling quickly, and it seemed a tough choice to use it to continue walking or to fish. Neither. He was too tired for either of them. He rested his head on a foreleg, and snoozed, his fear of someone coming up on him dwindled by the need for sleep.