"He's gone..."A snowy white weasel whispered miserably clutching a knife close to his chest,for the last few days he had been stuck in this position refusing to move or even eat,unlessed the meal was forced down his throat.His peridot green eyes spilling tiny droplets of salty liquid that dampened his eyes, they showed a deep and dark desire; one that would more than likely come to be sooner or later.
Nevertheless he remained in his position atop of his saber skin bed, a saber tooth knife in hand that had been binded to a slightly singed bone with a thin, yet the strong vine held the sharpened tooth in position. He held it close to his chest, twirling it in hand; twisted thoughts running through his mind. Vivid scenes played through his head, all more clearer than the next.
The weasels mindset and such was nowhere near as sharp as his knife. He was broken. His heart throbbing with grief. His mind only fueling this grief further. His lover had died. He was in pain,an unimaginable pain which he wished to end...1...2...3. He let himself fall into a dark black abyss which he would not wake from any time soon.
