Jane Jago’s Drabbles – Four Hundred and Thirty-Two

Chigwitha’s eyes saw what she didn’t want to see. Home. Gone. All gone under sheets of whiteness. Cold. Cold. Cold.

She gathered the little ones to her and gave them the warmth of her body. She must have been asleep for a very long time and she supposed the old bones at her side we’re all that remained of her strong, proud mate. That was a sorrow to be examined.

For now she turned her back on the killing cold and followed the red light to warmth and meat. 

A voice inside her head said. ‘You can never go back.’

©️jj 2020

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