Writing prompt # 10: It’s so…cold…

‘It’s cold. It hurts…so much. Some Christmas.’ Gritting her teeth, she tries to force her numb hands to work, to cooperate and start a fire in the small fireplace.

Eventually, she manages to complete the feat, sighing a bit as the heat warms the tips of her fingers. She rubs her hands together, trying to spread the heat farther. She looks around herself: the state of the house is abysmal, with windows broken out and pieces of the wall and roof missing.

She can smell the faint tang of mildew, but it’s damp and cold, and impulsively, she scoots closer to the fire, pulling her coat closer around herself.

She hears a sound, but remains perfectly still as it seems to approach, her heart beating a heavy tattoo against her chest in spite of herself.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she spots the figure: a fox the size of a large German Shepherd, colored silver, grey, black, white, and brown, very similar to a wolf, though more splotched, blending in with the cityscape far better than their lupine cousins. Sighing, she releases the tension of her shoulders: the foxes may have grown, and changed, but at heart, they were still largely scavengers, so she’s not really worried about being attacked.

“What brought you here, Foxy?” she murmurs softly, gently scratching it behind the ears. It remains still, making a gekker at the back of its throat. The girl huffs gently, shaking her head.

“I don’t mind sharing my space,” she mutters, “But you can’t expect me to take care of you or be feeding you: you’re not a pet, and I don’t have anything to spare.” The fox shifts its head, blinking and gently clicking at her. She sighs, shaking her head.

“I’m not sure you understand, but, I guess it doesn’t matter.” Soundlessly, the fox shifts, wrapping around her, circling her with warmth. She blinks in shock, but before she can question it too much, the heat radiating from the fox comforts her, and her eyes quickly grow heavy, as if weighted with lead.

She’s asleep in the outside of ten minutes.