It is fall. A lone kimeti stands at a fork in her path. The subdued tones of her predominantly grey pelt are a stark contrast to the vibrant yellows and oranges of this wood. A gentle breeze tugs at the dying leaves. Wisps of her jet black hair have become unsettled, as well. They sway, lightly, loosed from the bun she meticulously arranged on her head, before setting out. It isn’t particularly cold, yet, but there is a slight hint of winter in the air. It lays in wait for the fresh green growth, seemingly confused by a series of unseasonably warm mornings.
She doesn’t know why she hesitates today. Either path will do and neither is particularly enticing. So she tarries, a moment too long by her reckoning. A sigh escapes her lips. A decision needs to be made. The sun waits for no creature and Escape the Shadow can swear that she has been here for an eternity, now. How long has it been? The very sky seems to have grown the same shade as her body. She shivers and not for cold.
“This way,” she whispers, making up her mind. The path ahead was ever so grassier and hasn’t seen as much traffic, as of late. The other path, although equally fair, shows significant signs of recent use. Clods of earth have been upset in places and a couple branches have been separated from their parent trees, not so long ago. And so she moves on, one step at a time; the only way forward is forward.
wc: 260
