i move slowly, my pads brushing along the frosted ground as my dark chocolate gaze sweeps across the field, barren of life. i am the only one here, it appears, in this wasteland. it must’ve been pretty, when it was alive, in the spring. but winter has taken a harsh toll on this area they call blossom forest; the trees are bare and tinted with white powder and the ground crunches, dead and frosted. i myself have arrived just nights ago, from areas far worse than here. i have seen the aftermath of fires, the ash that coats you pads and the trees; buried and dead.

and so, this is nothing compared to my home. this is a safe haven for me, though little did i know, it would be much more than a safe haven within moments. i glance down at my paws, much too delicate for anything and my lip curls in distaste. i’ll never be as pretty as the wolves i saw on my way here, i’ll never fit in with those of darkened coats. even here, in this sanctuary, i’ll be an outcast. this thought sends me stumbling over my own small paws, tossing me ruthlessly to the ground.

i sigh to myself and push upwards, my legs quaking beneath me…eyes. i can feel the judgmental orbs peering at me from the dying brush, behind the bare trees. a whimper, a pathetic whimper, escapes my maw as my head whips side to side, trying to spot my judge, my jury. this whimper, it reminds me of just how pathetic i am. afraid of my own shadow, are i? yes. yes apparently, i am.

i tremble under the weight of the judgment that will come and i force myself to move…left, right, left, right. in and out, in and out. this is what i must remind myself to do; breath. move. i must seek shelter, and yet i fear that this will not end well. if only i had turned and run towards the forest, as my gut screamed at me to do.

but I resist the terror that is slowly sinking into the pit of my stomach as i move closer towards the center of…what did they call it? ah, yes…blossom field. yet, there are no blossoms. a field yes, this barren wasteland could be considered a field. but blossom? no, there is not a bloom in sight, and i know that there won’t be for a while.
i stop when i reach the center, shivering as the brutal winter winds buffet me left and right, each gust leaving my legs trembling. i should have run towards the forest, but alas in this dimming light, that thought is useless as of now. i shiver as i stare up at the indigo sky, though this rich purple is fading fast into inky blackness as i await whatever Tor has decided to cruelly sentence me too.

word count; 488


|| pandora || fatale || adult || lover || pack || heirs || rank ||
|| Momo ||