A small fire crackled. It was hopelessly shy, but alive nonetheless, providing a flickery light for the girls and their scrappy camp. Beyond it was a colossal, overbearing black; cold, windy nights were especially dark.
Ichimi had stopped shivering, now huddled underneath seven layers of cosy covers. She looked like a burrito. Chloe made do with just one cosy cover and the fluffy jacket. This made her look comical, being far too big for her.
"Ichi, next time, can you actually help?"
"I was trying!" came Ichimi's voice from beneath the cosy covers. "You're too fast."
Chloe sighed. An owl hooted in a faraway tree, which took her attention off Ichimi's poor camp-making skills.
"Ichi, that owl's a long way away."
After a while, it hooted again.
"And one hoot," Chloe murmured, "is a lot longer than we thought."
It was very quiet, save for the howl of the wind and the occasional hoot. The girls ate six pink berries each (they were very short on berries), longing for something bigger and tastier. Ichimi took out her scrapbook and scribbled down what had happened in the past day. Chloe gazed into the black, wondering if her traps had caught something yummy. She sighed.
"Chloe, I'm sleepy."
"Let's sleep, then."
"Okay."
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
YOU ARE READING
Footprints
Spirituala small story of two young girls, chloe and ichimi, alone, somewhere cold, footprints litter the snow behind them
