Meadowlark Prairie Vita brevis

@Maegi

World was full of pain. Walls closing in. Shrinking space. Breathe, breathe, keep breathing! Dancing lights before eyes. Dream sequences, shattered by shrieks of horror. No air, no air, no air! Torment. Tears of desperation. Exhaustion. I will close my eyes just for a moment. Just for a moment. Just for a... Sigh. Wake with a start. Struggle. Time slows. Time stops. I can't. I can't. No more tears. Sobs. 

Warm brown eyes looking down at him kindly. No face. Someone familiar he does not know. Name. Name. Name. Somebody warm. Smells of flowers, grass, earth and late summer evenings. Smile that makes his heart sing. Don't go. Don't leave me. Don't... I can't. Wait!  Sadness like a mist engulfing him. Taking away the colours. Jade green in eternal sorrow, worry and disappointment. One after another. Please. 

A gust of fresh, cold air. Final fight, rocks give way and he drags himself outside and slumps in a miserable heap nearby. It is freezing outside, but it feels nice against his bruised and battered body. He lies on his side for a very long time, looking at the overcast sky and watching, how one by one small, white flowers fall on his fur and around him. It feels almost like home. He thinks about a smile and with tears welling up in his eyes, he smiles as well. She loves flowers. It must be her doing. 

He wakes up from extreme cold that feels as if it has seeped through his skin straight into his bones. He gets up, clumsily rearranging his limbs. Snow has made his pain a little more bearable, though it seems that one of his paws are not working properly and his back and neck is so stiff, he is able only to stagger. Falls are frequent, his head hurts very much, there is horrible ringing in his ears and he stops to vomit. I can't. I can't. I can't.

He cries until he cannot do it anymore, gets up and moves again. No sense of direction or destination. Just to get away from his hell as far as possible. He has no idea of the passage of time. There is just him and the path to nowhere that he has to walk. One step, two steps, three steps, four steps, five... He counts and it feels as if this montonous row of numbers is the only thing that keeps him alive. Keeps him here. Keeps him going.

When there are no numbers he knows, he says all the words he knows. Then the words end. He remains silent. Numb to the roaring winds, snowstorms, pain, everything. So much pain. So much pain. The morning sun tears through the thick blanket of grey clouds and looks down at a small bundle of emaciated body under the reddish fur, made dull and lustless by the dust and mud.

He has come to the end of the road. Or given up somewhere along the way. Breathing is very slow and even, the warmth has almost all left him. His heart is racing feverishly against the passage of time, which slips away like sand through fingers. He watches this from a distance. Tired. Indifferent. Calm. Nothing left to fight for. This will be easy, easy, easy... they whisper in his ears. 

She has the most beautiful smile. He would hate to see it fade away. She cannot hurt. She is his everything. She is his world. He made a promise. Always and forever.

She has a name. 

I am sorry, sister. I am sorry.