Lost Creek Hollow the light was weak and carnivorous

There were some things that Mary couldn't pray away; some things were meant to stay with her. When Kathleen, the youngest of her deceased, was born, what should have been inside of the poor babe was made outside. She would try to nurse while resting on her father's nose so that the tender bits exposed on her belly wouldn't scrape against the dirt, but everything that she managed to take in was coughed up within minutes. Mary remembered the sound of her dying daughter's coughs; the hacking and heaving, the soft scraping of fragile claws scraping against whatever they could reach. She remembered it and heard it over and over again every single day no matter how many times she asked God to take it away. 

The thickly furred hare fought its hardest to get from between Mary's jaws, but its fate had already been determined. She was only just beginning to pluck away the white fur when she heard a familiar cough not too far off. It took a moment for her to decide if she really wanted to risk a meal for what could easily be nothing, but she knew what was right. Mary picked up the rabbit by the scruff, allowing the limp body to dangle as she began to trot over to a nearby bush. She made sure to bury it as best as she could before going after the seemingly ill stranger.

Hello? she called out as she approached. Mary scanned the area once or twice before her eyes finally settled on the twisted form of a yearling, if even that. A gasp and a moment of panic before her instincts kicked in and she rushed over.