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November 23rd, 2019

The days had passed without seeing any other signs of life that weren’t indigenous to this place, though she had found something that had saddened her quite a bit. When the pain in her leg had finally subsided somewhat she’d been able to leave her cave, though the black-furred cub, she wanted to believe it was a panther, had disappeared. It hadn’t taken her long to find it once again, or her rather, since another sweep of the island had revealed another cave that she’d missed in her initial run-through.

She had discovered the cub once again, though she’d also found cub’s mother, and perhaps her sire as well. It would make a great deal of sense considering she hadn’t seen or heard any other such creatures in her time here thus far. But unfortunately for the cub it had appeared that she had been the only one of her mother’s litter, while her mother and sire had seemingly had a dispute that ended both of their lives. Their throats had been torn, their faces ripped to shreds, and their claws had borne the evidence of this mighty battle.

As unlikely as it might have seemed, the scenario was all too real. The cub hadn’t wanted to approach her at first, and so she’d given the little cat her space, deciding to spend her time finding out just how to survive her current predicament. It had taken the better part of a month for the cub to start coming around regularly, and when she’d started feeding her the cub, who she had taken to calling Patch due to a faint, gray splotch of fur on her chin, had finally seemed to accept her. It had only been in the last couple of weeks however that Patch had bothered to stick around, perhaps thinking that she was okay and wasn’t trying to trick her.

In that time she’d done a great deal to make herself more comfortable, and it had happened just in time since the weather had been getting steadily colder with each passing day as she’d noted. While it wasn’t absolutely freezing it wasn’t exactly balmy either. She’d thought to find something sharp and capable of cutting to skin the hides from the dead panthers she’d found, but not only had she found this idea to be uncomfortable with Patch watching, she realized that she’d probably damage the hides more than anything, and she had no working knowledge of how to use them to keep her warm.

Fire hadn’t been a problem, as there were plenty of trees and bushes on the island and she’d been taught at least basic survival skills as a child. But getting the materials she needed in order had been a task in itself. Once she’d done it a few times however the practice had come easily, and she and Patch had come to enjoy their time by the open flames.

It was a start to something anyway.

(to be continued)

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