|Wren (adetunedradio) wrote in repose,|
@ 2018-12-09 05:41:00
|Entry tags:||*log, wren iliescu|
Who: Wren & OPEN
What: Wren is freezing AND starving
Where: Around the bins in an alley in town
When: Early Sunday morning
Warnings/Rating: Wren warnings, mentions of starvation
Temperatures had dropped to the high 30's in Repose and in the shadowed, shaded areas underneath the cover of the trees it was even colder. The frigid weather had soaked into the ground so that even curled up in the nest of leaves he'd made, Wren still felt the cold and woke up aching and shivering. The thick leaves of the evergreen trees that gave the most protection from precipitation also blocked most of the weak sunlight from reaching the ground and compacted the effect.
The ground around the lake where Wren had previously been able to dig up worms to eat was almost solid and too hard to dig into, while the grass that he usually turned to had become sparse and stringy in the cold.
Wren was staving and so he'd made his way into town to forage there, desperate to eat but not aware or bold enough to approach anyone he knew for help. He came into town after he'd woken up at 'far too early' in the morning while it was still dark outside in the hopes that he'd avoid unhappy shopkeepers, cruel youths and other creatures who might be looking for breakfast. He'd slunk into the alleys between little shops to go burrowing through the rubbish in search of anything half-edible he could put in his gnawing, aching stomach, greedily licking the lingering taste from crisp packets and food wrappers, chewing and swallowing down greening pizza crusts and hard, leathery chips.
It was hard going though, most of the food already having been picked over by animals during the night and the dumpsters too high for someone who only stood 4'10" to reach. Exhaustion and disappointment combined with hunger and the chill cold that still cut through his thin weather-inappropriate clothes brought even Wren's usually high spirits low; by the time the light was turning the sky a pale lavender, Wren found himself curled up small against one of the bins, the warmth of the rotting garbage negated by the cold seeping out of the brickwork and from the ground he lay on.
His lips pale, his shivering stopping, Wren fell into an uneasy sleep where he lay, lacking the strength and energy to make it back to the woods.