The photo prompt free write:
Steve the squirrel stretched his little arms are far as they would go as he peered upwards through the trees at the glorious rays of sunlight. It was the beginning of another beautiful, chilly spring morning. Steve had many plans for the day, beginning with the gathering of his breakfast. Steve peered at his recipe for nut soup, and decided that he would first need to gather nuts. In fact, he would only need to gather nuts. Steve had tried other things like pine needles and rubarb, but he didn’t care for those much. Oh how wonderful the texture of freshly polished nuts were to his tongue, Steve began to salivate as he imagined himself rolling the nuts around in his mouth. He awoke from his dream-like state at the sight of the tastiest morsel before his eyes. There it was, the perfect nut, lying on the ground not more than 30 feet below. As he leapt to retrieve his prize, Steve’s arch-enemy, Rick the Red Squirrel, sprinted from behind a nearby tree and snatched the nut from its resting place. Rick screeched “eeeeeeeeee!” as he bounded through the forest with his contraband. Steve landed with a thud on the ground where his nut had been. Tears began to swell in his eyes as he was faced with the realization that he would spend another spring morning cold, hungry, and alone.
Prompted free write, "Why do coyotes howl at the moon?"
Why do coyotes howl at the moon, you ask? It’s a legend around these parts, and you children should know it. Your great-grandfather, Herbert the Rabbit, told me this story when I was just a kid. One full moon night, aeons ago, there lived a rabbit by the name of Sampsonite. He was a rambunctious little hare, who never listed to his mother about staying in-den after dark, He was out, hopping over logs in preparation for an up and coming hurdles competition, when he heard a dog bark in the distance. He stopped quickly and fell on his belly to the ground. Listening closely, Sampsonite laid perfectly still for what seemed like an hour, but perhaps a minute or two had passed. He thought to himself that the dog must be one of the Two Leg’s prisoners, and he stood up from his hiding position. Sampsonite turned and glanced up at the hill behind him, and in the moonlight saw hundreds of dark silhouettes creeping eerily in his direction. Without delay, Sampsonite began moving back towards his mother’s den in the quietest fashion. Peering over his shoulder, Sampsonite eyed the black demons as they crept ever closer. In the moonlight, he could see their evil eyes illuminate with dark intensions.
Now smelling the fear of his helpless prey, Luthur the coyote quickened his pace. He was the master of sneakiness, and had never failed at retrieving first place in the pack’s monthly slaughter competition. This little hare was his, he salivated at the mouth as he imagined himself chomping the life out of the pathetic little creature.
Still peering over his shoulder, Sampsonite was well aware of the lone coyote who had strayed far ahead of the pack. It was approaching quickly now, but only the moonlight had given the beast away. Sampsonite felt the urgency of death on his heels, and made a break for it. He ran full speed, and dove into the hole of his mother’s den as the jaws of the hell bread hound clamped at his heels…
Luther the coyote sat outside the den, staring at the hole in disbelief. He had managed to tear a mouthful of fur from the rabbit and nothing more. Had he lost his touch? What could have given him away? He looked about, and soon realized that he could see ever so clearly. In agony and disbelief, he looked to the sky to find the night-sun. This cursed sun had come out at night to spite him. Luther lifted his head high, and in an insanity filled rage, screamed at the night sun until it disappeared at daybreak.
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