描述
# Scene 2
*Stumbling forward the sun briefly catches ✭’s eye. He looks up now and notices beneath snow laden clumps, the trees are a luminous green. He smirks, knowing this means fresh growth and possibly food. Cracking a small flexible branch, he draws a fist down the stick, leaving a fresh grasp of damp pine needles within. He tenderly nibbles the spines off the ends and folds small bunches into his mouth. The youngest needles are the most tender, ✭ muses on the idea of eating the young to survive, but pushes thoughts of politics aside for now.*
[www.imstarving.lol](https://www.imstarving.lol/)
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## Poem by firdawesome#3000
```
I’m starving: Survival?
No chance of revival!
I’m hunting. A seeker
In search of some weaker
Prey that tries to bolt when
I follow to its den
And just as I’m ready
Killing hand all steady
What’s this noise that I hear?
A low growl that I fear
Emanates from the bush
As one paw starts to push
And I try to escape
Branches tangle my cape
No chance of survival
My flesh feeds a revival.
```