Firefly Glen sometimes we just think too much

good for caregivers (medic), ambassadors, and maybe naturalists

For the first time in quite some time, Tabriëlle felt a flush of relief. No longer was she an isolated, wandering soul—hauling the remains of her spirit to what little sanctuary she could find. No, she had possibilities now. A future. Something that could be born again from the ashes that haunted her. A reason, and perhaps soon, even a smile. Perhaps.

The frail she-wolf made her way through the glen, slowly—as if carrying months’ worth of aches. Truth be told, she was surprised she had managed to travel so far without fainting…or worse. Licking her dry lips, Tabriëlle’s blue orbs searched for a nearby stream or body of water. Something to satiate her overwhelming thirst.

It didn’t take her long to locate a thin stream running a few yards away and she awkwardly stumbled toward it. Lowering her maw, she bent as if to take a drink—though came up short. She looked a mess. Her usually beautiful white coat was matted and filthy and what once was a curvy frame appeared bony and unpleasant to the eye.

Is that me?