sweet, mourning lamb

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 He'd traversed this world, alone in a sense. Life flickered all around him, but not the same as he knew merely months ago. Long, fleeting yellow grasses and the constant shuffling of hooves — no, not anymore. This world echoed in soft calls of various birds and latent lulls of waves in the distance.

 Mink's paws felt the soft, padded earth, a mixture of moss and grass worn by travelers. This part of the trail was new to them; having traveled some of it before, following the curves, hoping that it might lead to something more — whatever that was, they didn't really know.

 Coming up on a bend, they noticed an area where the moss grew thin and led into higher grass. Their eyes flickered across it, analyzing the area, wondering if any prey lay hidden in the — his stance grew ridgid for a mere second as they landed on another individual. The soft morning light lit her tawny fur, aiding in its feathery glow. Something about her tickled a part of his brain, maybe it was the fact that she wasn't a wolf, but something more relating to him. A warm feeling of familiarity radiated through him.
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