Emberwood headup

the morning air is bitingly crisp and the ground is laden with a coating of frost.

he is grateful it has not snowed over yet. 

his stomach feels like it’s boring a hole through his torso. the taste of bile taints the dryness of his tongue.

perhaps this exhaustion was the reason for the dull ache in his head. 

and so he sought to put an end to it, 

hope finds itself in the form of small footprints breaking the frost.

he follows the rodent’s trail dutifully.