Phoenix Maplewood I have never known hunger like these insects that feed on me

the woods stood empty, testiment only now to what could have been, what once lived as an idealized image to in her heart of hearts. she stood now within them undeserving and unfeeling. any signs of habitation that may have been etched out palely stood now completely covered, and the woods were silent save for the creak of ravens, sounding ever so similar to the rattling groan of the trees as they shifted beneath the snow. 

she observed carefully the tiny body that lay half-buried at the foot of one of the larger pines, curled and dead in the cold. a chick, mere days old, a mistake. she nosed it gently, prying it from the pale grave before snapping it betwixt her fangs and swallowing it, regretting it when the cold body moved slowly down her throat. straightening, the huntress turned away, wondering if the bodies of it's clueless parents lay somewhere near to the chick they'd attempted to rear far too early. it was a mystery she did not care to solve, and move heavily southward again.