Wilding

I followed her around the edge of Fields Pond, her feline steps precise in the snow. She sat for a moment under a low hanging hemlock branch, her bobbed tail visible in the tracks she left behind. I saw her in that moment, sitting under the branch, her eyes alert in the dim light of night, her whiskers catching the vibration of a squirrel asleep in the tree overhead. She sat, listening, waiting, breathing…and so did I.

 

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