I pressed a tentative paw to the ash dusted floor of what was once a magnificent rainforest teaming with life. The movement burned just as much as the last. Where there used to be gold and snow white fur, there was only burnt and blistering flesh. A low growl erupted in my throat as the sharp pain shot through my very core.

My eyes had only just stopped watering enough to see the destruction and ruin around me. My hearing muffled but good enough to hear the silence that surrounded me. The singing of the birds, the clicking of the insects and any sound of the soft footfalls of prey was gone. It didn’t look like it was coming back any time soon either.

For miles the vivid greens and luscious colors of the rainforest where gone. Replaced by blinding monotones of grey, black and white.

Every breath hitched in my throat. I wanted to run, to try and find the place where the flames had stopped and the rainforest would surely still stand but I knew I didn’t have it in me. I was sure I would never run again. Never slink through the canopies of the great and ancient trees. Never watch from above as bright creatures went about their day on the forest floor. Never pounce from the shadows on another delicious but unfortunate prey. This was the end and I knew it.

With one last effort, I let my body fall to the ground beneath me. I curled my once magnificent body into a ball and closed my eyes one last time.

The news was dull today. The front page feature was yet another drab celebrity gossip piece. The words blurred where the never ending rain had beaten the print over the cold winter night. My hand shook a little. I don’t know why, I was used to being cold. Being cold was all I knew, this time of year. A gloved hand suddenly appeared in front of my face as I sat tucked into a shopfront doorway. A sky blue pamphlet firmly held between the folds of black leather. An ornate gold cross almost glowed in the center of the page. Reluctantly, I looked up at the man, who looked down a long crooked nose back at me. Looking down in the figurative sense, not just the literal. I could see the same expression in his eyes that I saw in all the others. A sort of glazed expression that looks but doesn’t really see.

Nobody wants to see what I really show them. Nobody wants to see the reality. They’re usually too embarrassed or too marred by pity to look for too long anyway. Who would want to look too closely at the scars that weave intricate patterns across every inch of my skin? Or the blinding absence of so many of my limbs? No one wants to look at the man who served his country for countless years and was broken and reduced to ashes in the process.

I straightened up my beret. The one remnant of my past I still held on to; snatched the sickly blue and gold pamphlet from from his hand, screwed it up with the four fingers I had left and tossed it onto the soaked concrete tiles where it belonged.

I had once been a man of faith. But how can one have faith in a being of almighty power and omniscience that leaves his creations to suffer like this. I’d stripped the faith from my mind and heart a long time ago. No part of it lingered in me and I cursed the very thought of it. I didn’t miss it, nor did any part of me feel any kind of withdrawal from any part of the ridiculous fantasy.

The man shot me a look of mild offense, pulled his collar up against the wind and shuffled away. Good. I went back to the comfort of minding my own business.