Currently it was snowing, but Phoebe paid no mind to it. Although her hands were cold, she would take small breaks to listen to the birds so she could put her hands in her winter robe's pockets for a few minutes. It seemed to work for her, so she continued to sew in the snow.
Taking her third break from her craft to warm her hands, she looked up at her surroundings, almost blinded by the snow that covered the ground. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a patch of white moving. Confused and curious, she turned her head to see what it was.
A rabbit rested in the snow, probably trying to figure out what its next move was going to be. Phoebe watched, studying the behavior of the rabbit, assuming it was hungry. Seeing as she didn't have anything on her that was edible for rabbits, she continued to study the rabbit, wondering what it was going to eat in such a barren area.
The rabbit hesitantly began to inch its way toward the girl, probably curious as to whether or not she had some food. Perhaps the rabbit thought she was food, considering the fact that she hadn't moved an inch since she first saw it. Every few seconds the rabbit would take a few hops toward her, slowly yet surely. Within a few minutes, the rabbit was a mere seven feet in front of the girl. She reached her hand out at a snail-like pace, being extra careful not to startle the rabbit and make it run away.
In an instant, an owl swooped down and grabbed the rabbit with its talons, penetrating the rabbit's skin. The owl quickly flew away, leaving behind nothing but a few drops of blood. Phoebe sat there, shell-shocked, staring at the small patches of blood that had quickly soaked into the snow. Some of it had even splattered onto the legs of her overalls.
She was frozen for a good three minutes, hands and breath slightly shaking, traumatized. It was the first time she had witnessed death firsthand. Once the shock had fled her body, it was replaced by mourning. Tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to fall down her cheeks. She tightly gripped her embroidery hoop, allowing the tears to flow.
Phoebe felt slightly pathetic for crying about such a seemingly miniscule thing, but to her, it felt like the death of a close friend. It's not like she had kept the rabbit as a pet or anything, but she felt a slight connection to it. Maybe she was just sensitive to death. Maybe it reminded her of her parents, or perhaps she just didn't like the sight of blood. It possibly could've just been a mixture of everything. Whatever it was, Phoebe continued to cry.
She decided to put her embroidery on pause, putting her supplies away in her pockets. She then brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly. She just sat there, clenching her fists, forgetting the blood stains on her pants which had probably soaked in enough to make the stains permanent.
For the first time since she had been sitting outside, everything seemed silent, so painfully silent.
The trees cry in autumn because their hearts are growing cold.