Shadewood instinct

There’s a hunger in his belly that he’s felt before, but rarely, and he knows it isn’t going to get any better. It’s been days since he’s seen green, since the locusts had taken over, and he’d only been trying to follow a herd when it happened. Bowie lost them. Now, he’s lucky if he can come across an easy-to-fish-from lake or stream or a small rodent crossing his path at the wrong time. However, it has been a while since he’s stumbled across anything.

He walks through a skeletal forest, light peeping through intertwined branches that hold no leaves. Birds cry from above, flying around, and he wishes for an easy catch. None of them ever come within reach of his waiting, hungry mouth. Never do they fly close enough, or touch the ground long enough for him to plan an attack, so he continues onward through the forest. Unsure of where he’s going, of what he’s going to find, but between the never ending rows of trees and the accent of death looming his future, he knows it’s not likely he’ll see a lick of green any time soon.