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The new moon hangs high in the sky, unable to provide even a single silver beam to the world below. The stars are mostly covered by thick storm clouds. Freezing sheets of rain drop to the ground, piercing through the forest’s canopy like a thousand icy arrows shot down by the empyrean. They sting as they drop onto an azure hoglet walking through the darkened forest. He shivers uncontrollably, making each step forward more difficult than the last. He pushes onward, however, for even if he’s going slow, he’s also getting closer to his shelter. The rain hurts, and the darkness frightens him, but he’s fine. These words carry him forward with their fading light and heat, providing little comfort but just enough to keep him from collapsing from either exhaustion or hopelessness.
It is difficult to see ahead of him, though. When dusk arrived, there was enough light to see by. There is nothing now. He is directionless. He can only hope that he hasn’t been turned around since he was going on the right path earlier. He has to persevere. He fears the shadows will latch onto him if he falls motionless. They will grab him with claws and teeth, cutting open his young flesh and spilling his blood among the dead leaves on the forest floor. He doesn’t want to hurt. He already has a taste of pain from the rain. He isn’t eager to find out how much worse it can get, especially against foes he cannot see— can only feel.
He doubts his perception of time is accurate given the circumstances, but he knows a large amount of it passes, slipping between his paws like sand in an hourglass. The end of his journey should be upon him, and it is. It’s marked with his foot slipping into the hole in the ground that serves as the only entrance and exit of his sanctuary. Instead of falling in, his body’s weight drags him forward. He lands against the ground surrounding the hole. The rain has turned it into mud that sticks to his dulling fur. He attempts to catch himself with his paws. This only serves to create bruises on the heels of his paws and his knees. They hurt in a heavier way than the piercing cold of the rain does.
He pushes himself onto his knees, letting his fur sink into the mud. The harsh wind smacks the side of his body, reminding him of how easily it can send him tumbling over. A hissing noise leaves his mouth, accompanied by pinpricks of pain in his eyes. His lips quiver at a different frequency than the rest of his body. He doesn’t want to cry right now, but the tears flow against his cheeks. They are hotter than the rain sliding against his face, making them noticeable to him. He crosses his arms on the ground. He tucks his head in the space between his forearms and his knees, curling himself into a loose ball. He continues crying, but it has nothing to do with the pain his body is experiencing.
No, it’s all because of the pain in his heart. It aches something fierce. He’s found no solution for it despite searching for months on end. There is nary a trick he hasn’t tried to make him feel better. There’s no source of respite, only temporary distractions that inevitably bring him back to where he started.
Longclaw is still gone. He can’t forget the way she looked at him over her shoulder. She begged him to keep running, forever onward without looking back. He did look back, though. He ran back to her. Unfortunately, the portal dissipated right when he was going to reach her. In some ways, this was probably for the best. He wouldn’t have been able to save her. He would have only gotten himself killed alongside her. Longclaw has done too much for him over the years for him to squander his life like that. He knows that she has no regrets sacrificing her life for him.
It doesn’t stop him from wishing there was something he could have done. It doesn’t stop him from going over the events of that day, searching for some way it could have gone differently. If he were faster, if he were stronger, if he were smarter— or maybe if he wasn’t himself, if he didn’t have a power that others would want to use for themselves.
These thoughts have only gotten worse. The winter season is approaching. The world is literally getting colder. The days aren’t as long, letting the darkness of night consume the forest for the majority of the time. The cold and darkness are choking the life out of the plants. Some of the animals are migrating. The others are hibernating. Either way, he is losing the few friends he’s made since coming to Earth. The loneliness was always terrible, but it’s even worse now without anything to bring him some comfort during the hours he’s awake.
His thoughts serve as a reminder. He pushes himself onto his feet. Dizziness swirls across his vision, but it means nothing to him since his vision is already compromised. He pats the ground in front of him with his foot. When he finds the hole, he drops into it. He lands unbalanced on his feet. He wobbles side to side, but he eventually regains enough balance to remain upright. He wraps his arms around himself. The wind is gone. The rain is, too, when he steps out of the dim yet noticeable light coming from the hole. The cold permeates in the space between the dirt just as it lingers inside his bones. Unfortunately, there’s nothing he can do about that, so he just continues toward the other side of the room.
He drops onto his makeshift bed. He likely should have dried himself or wiped the mud off his body, but he can’t be bothered to as he sinks deeper into the bed and into his mind. His paws scramble around for the blanket. He wraps it around himself. He pulls it as tight as he can, but there’s no ridding himself of the cold. This blanket isn’t Longclaw’s large, feathery wings, after all. He’s stuck with the cold whether he likes it or not (and trust him, he doesn’t like it).
He stares out across the other side of the room. The light continues seeping in from the hole in the ceiling. The noise of the rain and wind does, too. There is nothing for him to observe any longer, however. The storm will likely continue long into the morning. Even when it officially ends, the cold will remain. Another storm will be approaching soon enough— perhaps this one will carry snow instead of rain.
He closes his eyes, letting the howling of the wind and pounding of the rain fill his flattened ears. His soul stirs with fear, but another sensation starts winding through his body— his exhaustion. He isn’t necessarily sleepy right now, but he forces his heart to slow. He doesn’t let his eyes flutter open even once despite the noises getting louder. It takes some time, but he untenses his muscles limb by limb.
There is nothing for him here, so he resolves to follow in the footsteps of his animal friends. He doesn’t have the mental fortitude to migrate, but his instincts have taught him the steps for hibernation. Starting from right now, he will slip into infinite nothingness. His body will naturally wake up when the harsher weather abates. His friends will have returned. The sunshine and warm wind will have returned, too. The days will be so long that he won’t know what to do without as much moonlight. Everything is going to work out.
And maybe, just maybe, he’ll get to see Longclaw in his dreams. He’ll get to apologize. He’ll get to show her how much faster and stronger he’s gotten since she’s last seen him. He hopes she’ll let him stay with her this time. He still might not be able to protect her, but he isn’t going to run away like a coward again. She won’t have to leave this world alone again.
He hopes, at least, that if she isn’t in his dreams, nothing is. He doesn’t want to contend with the cold. He doesn’t want to experience loneliness. He can’t stand the loud noises or the quiet ones. There will be no need for light since there will be nothing in the darkness.
And maybe he’ll just stay there. He finds that he wouldn’t mind that, either.
He probably should think about that a little longer, but his body gives him reprieve by forcing him under. His first hibernation has begun.