— all that glitters is not gold

[ameko]

Cold. It was so cold all of the time. When he awoke, it was with a stuttering inhale, the air piercing the back of his throat. Dull eyes blinked open, staring at nothing. Where was he? What was he doing here? So cold. His breath caught in his throat and he started to cough, curling in on himself.

Each cough brought with it more of that biting chill, stabbing into his throat and his lungs. His chest spasmed with the exertion. He scrambled to his paws, trembling, unfocused gaze lingering on the grass below. It felt like hours he stood there, trying in vain to calm his breathing, before he was granted a moment of reprieve. His eyes burned. Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth.

If only it could all just stop. He was so tired.

His stomach ached with hunger, but that had become such a familiar feeling to him that it was given no more than the barest acknowledgement. His gaze slid unfocused across the bright sky above. There was… something that brought him out here. Some reason. What was it, again?

His eyebrows furrowed in thought as he tried to grasp at any tendril of coherent thought. For several seconds he stood, breathing so shallowly, thinking. It was only when he noticed his own tail dragging on the ground that he was reminded of the fur.

The fur, of course. That tuft. The… the cream? cream colored tuft of fur on that bush. Somewhere.

So cold.

. . .


The blood, too. There was the blood. Red, dark red, on the ground and the grass. That was what had drawn him. No trail now, though. When had it ended? He blinked, eyes staring blearily at his paws.

How long had he been out here? How long had he been searching?

…what was he looking for, again?





He wanted his dad.

His chest panged with a sudden, violent sense of longing and fear and loss. His vision blurred. It would be so easy to just lie back down and give in, give himself to the world around him. Accept his fate. Reunite with his father.

But he needed to find—...

someone…


whoever left that fur there. Couldn’t stay here. He blinked away the tears, gritted his teeth, and took a step. His paw trembled as it pressed into the grass.

He managed a scant few steps before his throat itched with the urge to cough and he had to stop. Catch his breath. There was something ahead of him. A forest? A few moments of reprieve he allowed himself, but he had to keep moving else he feared he would never move again. So he continued. The wind bit into his flank, into his eyes, into his nose and his mouth and his paws and it stung. But he kept walking.

Something soft underfoot broke him out of his daze, and he paused, gaze flickering down.

Flowers. Wilted blue flowers. Something deep in his memory stirred as he stared down at them, but the feeling dissipated before he could recognize its presence. Instinctively, he took in a breath to catch the scent of the flowers—but there was nothing. They just smelled like the cold, cold air that suffocated everything.

—except. There was something. A scent. He tried to focus on it, pick apart the smell and find out what it was, who it belonged to, where it led, but he was just so tired. And so cold. The shakes started back up. He hoped he wouldn’t start coughing again.

Maybe… maybe he’d sit here for a while. Take a break, regain his strength. It seemed safe here. He liked the flowers.

Shaking with the effort, Goldenpaw settled down in the clearing. His eyes fell shut.