_I was following the, I was following the-_

I trek through the snow, panting heavily. I gasp on to the wound to my abdomen, wincing in pain every step of the way. You can’t be mad at animals for being vicious. I should’ve listened when mother told me I shouldn’t explore these woods.

“You’ll get yourself killed.”

I continue humming the relaxing music to myself, moving forward into the big mass of land covered in pure snow.

_I was following the pack, all swaddled in their coats. With scarves of red tied ‘round their throats._

__

I start coughing up blood, which couldn’t be a good sign. It definitely wasn’t. I should just accept my fate.

I’m surprised the wolf didn’t just finish me off right when it saw me. Maybe it wanted me to suffer, wanted their to be time for my brain to process that I wasn’t going to survive. To me, wolves were especially beautiful in the snow.

_To keep there little heads from falling in the snow._

__

I drop to my knees in agony, yelling out in pain before my face hits the harsh, cold snow. I lay down on my back, closing my eyes as soft little flakes hit my frozen face. I remembered the times of my childhood, where I would build snowmen and make snow angels. After getting too tired, I’d go inside and make hot cocoa. My mom would always be in the kitchen or living room, smiling. It’s a good feeling knowing that someone is waiting up for you. I’m just disappointed that someone will forever be waiting. I smile softly and stick out my tongue, where a snowflake lands accordingly. Atleast the universe let me have that.

_And Michael you would fall, and turn the white snow red as strawberries in the summertime._