Ethan James Gregory
The raw, earthy scent of wet mud filled my sensitive nose, the ground was dark and damp, my paws were leaving marks on it. The branches and twigs that were scattered around the forest were snapping mercilessly, the howling cold breeze of the night embraced my fur as my paws were shuffling through detritus.
It’s dark but the forest still looks breath-taking, the moon is shining through a lattice of leaves, tall shadowed pines stretching up like arrows into the vast night sky, the forest flowers and clumps of bushes were passing behind the shadows of my back.
In the canopy, owls howled, chirping and calling in distant melodies to their kin. A faint rustling could be heard as small rodents scampered through the foliage, though it was drowned out by the greater rustling
