Wind in the Leaves

The weather hadn't exactly been sporting this morning when the young woman had set out again. The rain hadn't been heavy, but the light mist had been enough to leave the ground moist and her pelt sopping wet. Now the rain had passed, leaving the ground slick and muddy... things Gwyndolyn did her best to heed as she hunted. Or attempted to hunt, as it turned out. The young woman's run of luck had been poor lately and while spring had brought a little weight back to her bones, Gwyn hadn't had a proper snack (nothing she caught on her own could be considered a meal) in over a week. Long story short: she was hungry, and the sight of a rabbit peeking out of its burrow had been far too tempting to pass up. She had already tried chasing down one of the morsels earlier and had failed when it slipped out a back entrance to its den, leaving Gwyndolyn with nothing to show. Gwyn could only hope the same would not happen this time.

The girl was in a flat-out run, doing her best to follow the zig-zag trail of her chosen prey. The little brown rabbit was fast, and quite unlike the deer - or even the squirrels - that Gwyn was so used to chasing down in the forests of home. The terrain had been fairly flat, dotted by the occasional tree, until the last few strides. She had been sure-footed, should have slowed down a little with the change. It suddenly grew a little more rocky, treacherous; the rabbit took a swift turn and Gwyn felt herself slipping in the slick mud even as she shifted her weight to follow. She knew her paws were flying out from under her and watched as if in slow motion as her world spun and the rabbit shot down into its burrow - lost to her. A sharp yelp sounded as she hit the ground rolling.

Gwyn rolled a few times before stopping. She lay still for a moment, panting for breath. The shock wore off after a moment and in a flash she was on her paws. The frustration she felt presented itself only in the form of rapid pacing as she glared at the burrow. She couldn't see another hole. Maybe it wasn't very deep - she might be able to dig it out. Last time she tried that the rabbit had still escaped and she had nothing to show for it. Now she was afraid she'd have nothing to show for it (again) plus a mud-splattered pelt... well, "splattered" was the nice way of putting it: the grey woman was now half-brown thanks to her fall.

Giving in to her impatience, Gwyn began to dig furiously at the dirt around the hole. It was moist and began to fall in - not helping. And she was afraid to dig deep on her own - if it caved in on her she'd suffocate. If she didn't eat, she'd starve. It was a lose-lose situation. But unwilling to give-up, the woman pulled back from the hole and made a quick check of her surroundings: a boulder with a flattened top rested nearby. A hill rose beyond that... her view was obscured and she couldn't smell anything but dirt. She wasn't sure she wanted her head in a hole while she was alone either. Trying not to sigh with dismay, she gave the dirt a few more impatient presses with her forepaw then fell onto her haunches, her expression blank. This was no time for self-pity she knew, but she couldn't help but feel a little downtrodden. She was wet, dirty, and hungry with nothing but a hole in front of her to show for all that running...