He left me again.
I can't believe it.
Yet, I can, oh so well.
It's funny.
Funny how every time I gain a friend, they leave me.
I can feel the hail knock me side to side as I walk through the barricades of snow.
The wind whips through my pelt.
I can feel snow melting on my skin, making me damp and cold.
My muscles grow weak as they freeze.
He was a middle-aged tom, three years old.
Jet black pelt; keen eyes, watching as my tail swept from side to side.
He said he was going out to hunt.
He promised.
He came back with a rabbit.
Our bellies were full that night.
I stumble as my paw catches a dip in the ground, sending me plummeting.
I stay quiet as I feel no ground touching me; only snow.
I land, hard.
A frozen valley.
Shelter.
He would lead me across the moor, teaching me about every nook and cranny.
I trusted him.
He was nice.
He didn't leave.
I lost him in the snowstorm.
I called out to him, to no answer.
I called out again; nothing.
I felt myself sink.
He left me.
I quickly feel my blood run cold as I try to dig myself up and out, but to no avail.
Snow and hail comes on quickly.
My muscles grow weaker.
I feel my system run slow.
But I stay determined.
I stop.
But if I go up again, no one will want me.
I start again.
I can live by myself.
But I've grown to be too dependent.
I can change that.
But-
I'm knocked in the jaw by a large hailstone, thrown across.
Snow tumbles down on me as I hit the hill.
He was kind, strong.
Doing anything to protect me.
But he was proud, boastful.
When we went hunting, he said he would be the first to catch something.
I never knew it would grow to this.
I can't get up.
I'm frozen stuck.
I can't move.
My limbs are now frozen.
Snow quickly piles upon me, having the hunger to kill.
I quickly feel frost form over me, encasing me in the suit of death.
I take my last breaths.
I think about if he liked me, we would be in shelter instead of shambles…
I'm frozen.
Completely frozen.
I shatter.