Chapter 5
The Fire
Aonair had been at the Island of the pygrats for two moons, waiting for his paw to heal.
And now, after all that time, he could put some weight on it.
It was a breezy, sunny day. As usual. Aonair held his head up to the wind, feeling the mist of the waves as it crashed against the rocks. Feeling the blaze of the sun as it beat down on his tawny head. He was definitely going to miss this place.
The plump pygrats and fish tasted better than any scrawny hare in the desert he had ever eaten. He wouldn't forget the cool shade of the trees, nor the satisfying winds and tides. He wouldn't forget the boulders, and the way the white waves would crash into it, spraying gallons of water upward. The way the algae and barnacles clung to it as it constantly dipped beneath the surface. The way snails and crabs would scurry up and down the beach. Nor would he forget how he came upon it, with his broken paw.
But now, Aonair didn't have to worry about the declining pygrats, and the lower number of fish in the pools.
Yes, the island of the pygrats was a lovely place. But he couldn't live here.
He had a destiny to fulfill.
One afternoon, Aonair decided to lap around the entire island. The trek was about 2.5 miles. Halfway through, he decided to take a water break. The blue drops felt cool on his tongue. After the drink, he splayed his agile body across a boulder, soaking in the warm sunlight.
This place was amazing. Warm days, starry nights, and the constant song of the ocean.
The scents where great, too. The smell of the grass, ocean, pollen, smoke...
What?
Suddenly alarmed, Aonair jumped to his paws, hackles raised and ears pricked. He sniffed the air. Something was burning. He sniffed some more. In the distance, a funnel cloud of smoke rose from the center of the island. Slowly, the eerie blackness of the smoke began to cover the sky. The air was getting hotter, and something smelled as if it were burning. In horror, Aonair turned around.
The trees, they were being eaten by burning pillars of heat!
When the breeze blew, he felt the amber flames drifting above his face. The heat seared his eyes.
What is it?! What's eating the grass and trees? As he fled from the dreadful heat, he watched the amber flames devour the once peaceful fields and trees, leaving behind nothing was black, horrible smelling kind of dust behind. Aonair ran and ran, leaping over burning trees and dodging ashes. The fire was spreading.
The canal, I have to find the canal!
Surely the flames couldn't follow him there?
Faster and faster he paced. What would happen if he couldn't find a way out of this fiery trap? Hopelessness began to grown inside of him. He cried out for help, but there was no one to hear.
By now, the whole island seemed to be covered in flames. Everything was ruthlessly burned.
Suddenly, a fiery tree tumble in front of Aonair, he stopped to a complete halt just in time...or so he thought.
Unimaginable burning pain shot through his tail as the tree slammed on top of it.
"Oww! Pain! Fire! Help!" he screamed.
The pain was too unbearable. Worse than anything he had ever felt before. He felt a new desire. A desire for his pain to cease. A desire to end his suffering.
A desire to die.
Looking around quickly, Aonair bounded to a boulder, a boulder on a cliffside. His bounds to the cliff seemed to be in slow motion. Aonair hadn't lived very long. What was giving up by killing himself? Not much. He was just a lone pup, wondering the wilderness with a small chance of survival. His death would make no difference, no change in this big world. He would be with his beloved mother and brothers. He was meant to join them anyway.
With the faint clicks of Aonair's claws against the boulder, he plunged from the fire, from his life. In midair, he closed his eyes, welcoming death.