Moonspear strayed above the highway aisle

/

that morning is the first she wakes feeling good. physically, her pelt remains patched and threadbare, her endurance shot and wiry muscles not capable of the same strength they had been. but, despite the slate-grey of the sky and the cold that settles close to her skin, there is a lightness to her step as she descends the mountains, aiming for the verdant foothills.

she slips into the trees, morning fog just beginning to dissipate. above, patches of it still cling to the mountainside, like errant clouds stuck fast. a cardinal calls, shrill and distinctive, and isi sets her nose to the earth in search of a scent, or a companion.