Hunting

Frost hung to the branches, twinkling in the early morning sun.

Bob blinked up the sapphire blue sky, silently shifted his weight to his other foot to warm himself, and sniffed the air. The scent of cedar mixed with the soft wet smell of new fallen snow. The first snow of the season. 

A bright red cardinal landed on a branch a few yards awayand tipped his head. A ripe apple on a crystal tree. 

At the thought Bob's stomach growled.

He licked his lips and turned toward the meadow. An apple would really hit the spot about now...

Inching closer to the clearing, he paused, careful to disect every bush, every shadow before stepping out into the open.

Nothing.

Bob's ear twitched. He lowered his head and stepped onto the meadow. 

Out of the corner of his eye, a blip of orange moved. Thunder.

Pain ripped through his chest. Something slammed into Bob's chest. He staggered sideways,  gasping.  Unable to breathe.

Heart pounding, Bob spun on his heels, ready to jump. He need to get back to the woods, where it was safe.

He jumped. But his legs didn’t obey. He flopped to the ground. The taste of blood filled his senses. 

He kicked, bleated against the pain... and choked on the blood filling his mouth.

"The woods," he thought as the world faded to darkness. "If I could just make it to the woods..."