Oala
Crawl from under the soot and bebreis, can't find the way. Where am I, is this still my home? No! A voice say's in almost a whisper. Come with me child, you are lost. Where are my kind? I'm sorry they can't be with you anymore.
Slowly they walk, one will lead; the other must follow. Where are we going? We must find our way through, we must join the others who are left; who have survived. We must make a new home.
Why must we leave, what happened to our home? We went to sleep in the night, our world was lush and green. We had all we needed to sustain us. Then it came. The blaze was warm, to warm for us with fur. It was hot, to hot to breath. It brought the smoke that blocked out the sky, we could no longer see the sun. We couldn't tell the difference between night and day.
Why didn't we run? Where could we go child, every path was blocked. Every opening a trap, every pit a fall. The air became thick, the water turned to ash. This land sadly has become dead child. It will take many moons to recover.
Are we all lost now, no child, we are all survivers. We that remain must carry on. We must replenish in numbers and not be forgotten. We will make our way, we will find a home; we will continue on in the habits of our kinds. We cannot let this be our legacy, our suffering must not be in vain. Come child, we must catch up with the others, we must live on...
Image: google.com / Koala mother and child pic
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