Just A Little Water

• Vera Ogienko, Grade 5, Quakers Hill Public School
• Short Story
• 2019

2nd in the 'Inspired 2019' competition

The vixen stared. She stood in front of the dried husk that had once been her home. Once, many years ago she had stood here, admiring the lush forest ahead of her, but back then, she was just a mindless cub, oblivious of her surroundings. Back then, she never thought that her home would disappear, but then again, she never truly understood the importance of her abode. Not until now.
Her grandmother, the oldest creature in the Yaroon Forest, was a prophetess. She spoke of visions, of stands of time, and of a great drought, but the vixen never listened. Now, she wished that her childhood arrogance had at least allowed her to believe her grandmother. She wished she could go back, but here family was gone now. There was nothing she could do. She could only wait. She could only hope the water would come.
The ground was dry and cracked. The flowers, bushes and lush grass were no more. The trees were black husks that looked like they would break apart at the merest touch. It was as if all life had been sucked out of the forest. There were no animals, and the constant buzzing of insects could not be heard. The abandoned forest was grim and grey, the only spot of colour being the bright red of the vixen’s sleek fur. she felt like crying, but she had cried too much as a cub. Now, more than ever, she needed to stay strong. She suddenly felt the temperature drop and she glanced up. At first, she thought she was hallucinating, but she then dismissed the thought. A cloud had covered the sun! the vixen felt a ray of hope shine through the terrible fate that had fallen upon her home. Then all her dreams were shattered as she realized that the cloud was not one that would bring rain.
Now she cried. In her sobbing, she had not noticed that night had fallen. Now the sky was a beautiful sea of velvety black, decked with sparkling jewels. The vixen, suddenly tired, curled up into a comfortable position and slept.
When she woke, her red, furry coat was wet. She shivered, for even when the mercury was so high, it was easy to be cold with wet fur. She was curious about how she had become so thoroughly soaked. Then, all her inquiries were answered as a drop of something landed on the vixen’s snout. It was a cold liquid, but it brought warmth to her heart. It brought memories of the past and it would bring life back to her home. She licked the drop of water of her lips and let it nourish her parched throat. It was some kind of miracle.
Yet deep inside, the vixen felt a wave of sadness wash over her heart. The water had come. It would bring life to the forest, but it would never be the same.