WyntersMagik

    Fox pressed his paw in to the mud bed of the river before lifting it up to look at the imprint it had made. He let out a soft sigh as the river washed away the print. No part of it ever to show itself again; to be forgotten by time just like himself. He closed his eyes pinning his ears back letting a solitary tear slip down his maw and drip in to the river. He stood slowly looking up at the glade that sat across the river a stiff cool breeze, marking the coming of winter, ruffled the blades of grass. He shook his head starting to turn away from the river.    Was he forever destined to be forgotten? This is how Fox felt. After moons that