The kit was tired.
No, that wasn't right. The kit was bone-tired and utterly exhausted. Pixie was stumbling and dragging her paws and struggling to keep moving. She needed to stop.
But she couldn't.
After what she'd been through, how could she ever stop again? Pixie was so frightened, but on the outside, she was too sleepy and tired to be frightened. She wanted to go home. But there was nowhere to go.
She was alone and so, so scared, relying miserably on stories to guide her way. Stories her mother told her-- stories of big scary forest cats. These forest cats, she realized, were her last hope. If she didn't find them?
Pixie would die.
@
Undertaker