Lost Creek Hollow without you

As each day passed, the sky became greyer, the air becomes chilly, and the world around her no longer holds the colors it once had. The change in seasons suits the mindset she’s been settled in for weeks, existing from one day to the next with nothing in mind. Occasionally, she finds something to eat, but her time alone has minimized any desires to continue on. Her fur has lost the life to it, sparse in areas and tufts plucked near her hips. Dull green eyes are sunken in and skeletal face moves stiffly. She doesn’t have any destination in mind but something pushes her onward. She knows she isn’t far from death but the flicker in the back of her mind remains, keeping her going with as little as possible.

She’d taken refuge in an old den in the hollow the last few days, trying to keep warm. Her thin fur does little to retain body heat and her atrophied muscles don’t work as well to generate anything either. Most of the time, she remains in one place underground to preserve what little she has and reframe from expelling more energy than she has.

This particular morning, however, her mind is difficult to stop. It stretches its grasp into the rest of her body, giving her a restless ache to remain still. She untangles her gangly legs and awkwardly slinks from the den out into the open. The few trees behind her leave her in shadow as the sun rises and the empty pasture before her offers little possibilities. Her stomach rumbles as it has for a while yet and she begins to move along the tree line, searching for even the faintest trail.