The wind whistled between the trees, echoing nature’s voice as Abigayle made her way over the rugged surface of the earth and out of the thick forest. She shuddered as sharp winter air swept across the field and through her thin jacket. Muttering to herself, breath hanging like fog, she cursed the impending season and the snowy carnage it was about to set upon her.
Abigayle’s eyes tilted upward as a lone wolf pup wobbled toward her, ears fallen back and tail dragging limply behind him. His cry, small but drawn, seeped into the chilly air as if begging her to save him.
She paused, unsure what to do, as her heart fell for the pitiful creature. She couldn’t even save herself.
Stop for a moment to consider how that small story, albeit incomplete, made you feel.