Barrow Fields sky underground

In a way, he felt young again. He ate when he was hungry. He slept when he was tired. When he was lonely, he howled and hoped that someone willing would answer.

But he didn't get lonely anymore. Not in that same, gnawing way he used to. The independence suited him better than it had even when he was fresh-faced an idyllic. He did not have to put on a happy face for anyone, nor account for anyone else's needs.

So there was plenty of the deer left when he'd eaten his fill. He left it where it had been felled, chest cavity open, all the best organs gone. And the panther, bloodied and satiated, retired to some softer brush a few dozen meters away.

He shut his eyes and slept, and was soon hidden amongst the brush, covered by a thin blanket of freshly fallen snow.

@Tusakruŋa pspspsps