I don’t belong here | Short Story

I don’t belong here. But I'm never sure how I ended up in this wasteland. The howling wind slips under my fur to my bones as my paws crunch through the snow. My fur bristles at the crisp, cold air as a chorus of dead branches creak.


Backwater Boat Ride

The warm, humid air stuck to my skin, forming more sweat on my already sticky body. I slicked my long, frizzed hair back into a ponytail. I would do anything to keep it away from my neck.  The boat whirred and spurted down the narrow river channel.