I don’t remember when I last felt warmth. The kind that seeps into your bones and tells you that you’re safe. I used to know that feeling, long ago, when a gentle hand would stroke my fur and a soft voice would call my name. But that life slipped away, leaving me to wander the cold, unforgiving streets.
Now, I am nothing more than a shadow, drifting between alleyways, surviving on scraps and the mercy of time. My body is weak. My ribs press against my skin, each breath feeling heavier than the last. I used to run freely, my paws dancing on soft grass, but now every step is a battle. Hunger gnaws at me. Thirst burns my throat. I no longer dream of warm beds or loving embraces—only of making it through one more night.
But tonight feels different.
I stagger through the empty streets, my legs trembling beneath me. My vision blurs, and the world tilts. My paws give way, and I collapse onto the cold pavement. My breath is shallow, my body refusing to obey me. A painful whimper escapes my throat, but it is lost in the vast emptiness around me.
Is this how it ends? Alone, forgotten, with no one to remember my name?
No. I can’t give up—not yet. With the last bit of strength I have left, I lift my head and let out a desperate cry. It’s not loud, not strong, but it carries everything I have left in me. A plea. A whisper of hope.
I hear footsteps. My heart pounds weakly in my chest. A blurry figure approaches, their voice filled with concern. A hand reaches out, hesitant yet gentle. For the first time in so long, I feel warmth again. A soft blanket wraps around me, lifting me from the cold ground. The stranger’s arms cradle me carefully, and I lean into the touch, too weak to do anything else.
“You’re safe now,” they whisper.
Safe.
The word lingers in my mind as my eyes flutter shut, exhaustion pulling me under. But this time, I am not afraid of the darkness. Because for the first time in forever, I am not alone.
And maybe, just maybe, my story isn’t over yet.
