The sky flashed and broke apart with each thunderclap, the lightning splitting the heavens. No rain fell, but it didn't need to. His surroundings adequately mirrored the turbulence within him without the need to drench his fur as well. His red fur, dappled by black, ashy spots, was unkempt and matted, dirty; his paw pads were torn, and his ribs showed starkly beneath his fur. Every time he looked at himself in the rivers and ponds for a drink, he saw haunted, wounded eyes and couldn't believe that it was his own reflection. But seeing everyone that had ever been close to him die had turned him into a shell. His parents, his brother, and now poor little Underfoot . . . Gone. All gone, taken from him in cruel ways, Underfoot probably the cruelest. The little black hare that was small enough to stretch out on Ash's back as they traveled, torn to pieces by a cougar.
He felt empty. It wasn't even the feeling of his aching, hollow stomach. No, this emptiness went deeper, all the way into his heart.
And as lightning flashed, striking the ground with a crack that rocked the world, he vowed to never love anything again.
