Hope

Welcome back to the Wollow show, where I write depressing oneshots with extreme repetition and little creativity!

Here goes...

Everything.

Everything I've ever worked for.

Consumed by flames.

The dens we built, talking and joking while weaving in brambles.

Gone.

The prey we caught, leaping from treetop to treetop, purring when the other failed.

Gone.

The herbs she collected, neatly stacked at the back of her cave, ready to heal cuts, bites... And burns.

No herb can bring back the dead. And no herb cat heal a broken heart.

Every stone we pushed, every log we rolled along, every branch we collected...

It was all for nothing?

Every whispered "I love you," every promise we made, every night we sat under the stars...

It was all for nothing?

As I watch the flames engulf our dens, our camp, our love, the thunder begins.

The water pours down from the sky, as if the clouds themselves are weeping for her. Our love. Our life. Our kits.

Lightning illuminates the sky as the flames die down.

The fire was helpless against the pouring rain, just as she was helpless against the flames.

Everything.

It's gone.

Our dens. Gone.

Our kits. Gone.

Our love. Gone.

She's never coming back.

Hope. Gone.