Burnt

Prompt: Burnt

The squirrel hopped through the ash, little trails of smoke puffing up wherever its feet touched the earth. It should be green and brown, with that forest earthy smell. Instead, it was white like snow, and smelled like death. The air was thick with it. All the shrubs and foliage and fungi were burned away, leaving nothing but scarred tree trunks behind. It was like the fire cauterized the entire forest. Where had the other animals gone?

The squirrel recognized a tree and scampered up, trying to get a better view. It crawled out onto a branch it had used as part of its network a hundred times before, but the branch cracked and toppled. The squirrel flung itself from the falling limb, tail spinning wildly to orient itself and angle toward another twig before crunching to the ground. It barely gripped the second twig in time. The limb fell, shattering like a piece of glass upon impact, breaking into bits of charcoal.

The squirrel’s chest rose and fell rapidly, its heart rate and breathing quickened to match the confusion in its mind. This place was foreign now. Its home was gone. Its food reserves were likely gone with it. This was no place for a squirrel. It looked around one last time, sniffing the air. But it couldn’t smell anything except burnt air and charred bark. White ash dusted its little claws. Then it scampered down and retreated, looking for colors and smells it would recognize, looking for life.