I'm sorry. I know I haven't updated in weeks and Christmas is only days away. I've been having...troubles, and only just now managed to find time to get this to you. And, yes, it's short, but at least it's something. Heh.

[Sandy Claws is Coming to Town]

.Reading I.

Everything was so cold.

Shivers trembled up the mottled tom’s spine as chill winds whipped his matted fur in all directions. Such extreme temperatures were making his eyes water; the droplets turned to ice almost immediately, forming frozen packages of brittle residue that gathered in the corners of his eyes.

He ached to readjust his grip on the feathery fowl clenched between his jaws, yet he could not; his freezing all over, from the dribble-encrusted nose to the pale tip of his tail. It took everything he had and more to force his tired limbs to move, and it was nothing but the fiery image burned into his mind that fuelled him, though it was fading by the second, slowly but surely lurring around the edges and disappearing from clear view.

He wanted to stop. He longed to. When the urge became so great that he could not bear to fight it any longer, he at last succumbed to this wretchedness and sank heavily down to the ground. His weakened legs gave out under him and he collapsed into a snow bank as a huddled heap; exhausted, all be could do was watch the snowflakes hurtling past his muzzle through the burning haze that clouded his vision.

After lying still for many weary heartbeats, the picture that had long since drifted out of thought clawed its passage rights into his mind once more. A small intake of breath escaped him at the sight of the fluffy bundle of fur frolicking in his head. Though there was a happy spark in his eyes as he batted playfully at the cold whiteness drifting by, the kit’s malnourishment was anything but unapparent; his pelt clung to his bones like there was nothing at all between the two layers, giving his scrawny frame a desperate, hungry look.

Shaking his head abruptly to clear himself of the heart-throbbing picture, he stared off into the distance for a moment before snatching up the still-warm fresh-kill once more and bounding off into the trees. Clouds of snow exploded up behind him as he ran, paws churning continuously and concentrating on nothing but returning to the ragged clump of thorns he—quite piteously—called his nest.

I am coming, he thought, letting the words swirl in his heart to feed the adrenaline further. My son, I am coming home to you.

Will try to get some more up whenever I can. Promise.

Happy Holidays,

--Annie;;/

Monday December 22, 2008