Cottontail T
Indira Schargel
he trees swayed in the wind, their long branches dancing to the song of the rustling leaves. Through the symphony of the sounds of the forest, four little are paws bounding through the detritus and the rough, patchy grass. A cottontail rabbit pokes its head out from under a wildflower and leaps toward a patch of clovers. Its brown nose twitched and sniffed the three-leaf plant, and once satisfied and sure that it was a clover, bit down its tart leaves. The hot afternoon sun caressed the tan fur of the rabbit and slightly stung the thin skin on its ears as the sun went down. Night came ever so fast and the forest took on a new persona. The overhanging limbs across the forest ground seemed to never end, and the padding of paws and the snap of a branch near the patch of clovers frightened the rabbit. The cottontail dashed to safety, a small hole under a log covered in earthy fungus, dewy leaves covering the entrance to the pit. Heart slamming against the rabbit’s fragile ribcage it kept silent, shifting its ears to attempt to hear the creature trying to hunt it. A slender, tawny orange and white fox crept along the faint path the rabbit had made with its footpads. It gracefully crept upon the rotting leaves and the rich earth but it eventually lost its tracks. It walked off in defeat as the cottontail scurried to its den, moon shining through a lattice of leaves.
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