She calls out. Time and time again.
She cries, bleats, snorts, makes every sound she can possibly make.
It is the only thing that keeps the deathly stillness at bay.
But she knows she is fighting a losing battle. The odds are not only stacked against her, but the game itself is rigged.
Still she fights. Still she screams and rails and roars to the heavens, refusing to succumb to the Bitter Quiet.
