She is safe at first,
moving through grass and flower beside her mother,
a small shadow among warmth and fur.
Then the field changes.
Coyotes cry out somewhere beyond,
and the world tightens around her.
She freezes.
Her mother runs.
Her sibling follows.
But her legs will not listen.
She remains behind,
small, exposed,
her voice breaking the quiet as fear finds sound.
The meadow offers no answers.
At last, she finds a tree.
She scrambles upward,
clutching the thin safety of branches,
crying into the long afternoon
for what she cannot see.
Time stretches.
The light lowers.
At dusk, her mother returns.
Strength gathers beneath the tree,
and the distance between them closes.
Lesson and mercy arrive together.
She has learned how quickly the wild moves,
how missing a single moment can mean being lost.
But she has also learned this:
that even after fear,
after loneliness,
there is still rescue,
and rest,
and the quiet certainty of being held again.
Experience watched and image captured in Boulder, Colorado
Summer, 2022
Canon EOS 7D Mark II
Canon EF 100-400mm f/4.5-5.6 L IS USM