Love Doesn’t Melt

by Sissi Kenedi

I used to believe in this magical thing called hope.
I believed in it like it was some type of god.
I trusted it. I trusted it so desperately that it was the only thing keeping me from going feral. But in the end, it failed me, leaving me to face the cold reality of nature all by myself. What did we do to deserve such a fate?
#
“Mama,” I whined, clawing at her side desperately with my twig-like arms and scratchy voice, “are we going to eat soon?”
My mother wrapped her arms around my shivering body. “We will, chéri,” she whispered, “I promise.”
Three months ago, I believed it, I really did. Back then, my little brain couldn’t comprehend the fact that we were out of food.
I told myself we were simply preparing for future difficulties, because our situation would only get worse. Maybe we could even save enough food to help other friends.
But that was a lie.
I witnessed a terrifying sight last month. I saw one of my sisters lying dead just outside our den. It was enough to shake me out of my fantasy.
I received a chilling reminder from the world that day.
We were starving. And the situation wasn’t getting better.
#
The next morning, my mother took me with her to go hunting.
I stepped through the slushy terrain on wobbly legs, keeping my eyes peeled open for any source of food. At this point, even wild berries would make a delicious meal.
Love Doesn’t Melt
I struggled to keep up with my mother’s long strides and found myself tripping over tree roots, falling face-first into the muddy ground. My once snow-white fur had brown splotches splattered everywhere like permanent stains.
As I poked and prodded at my dirtied fur, I felt a familiar presence above me. My mother picked me up by the neck and plopped me onto her fuzzy back.
My eyes lit up in an instant and I squealed with excitement, a smile forming on my face as I snuggled in her warmth.
“Chéri,” my mother began, looking over at me as I played with my paws, “do you see that over there?”
I turned my head, squinting as the sunlight pierced my vision.
I saw blue.
The ocean.
“That is where we hunted,” she continued, walking along the mucky ground, “we have hunted there for many, many years.”
I listened attentively, looking back and forth from the ocean to my mother, my black eyes shimmering. I always enjoyed hearing her talk about the ocean and hunting. It was such an interesting concept to me.
One day, I would be catching my own food. I would learn to survive on my own in this world, without the protection of my mother. Just thinking about it made me smile with both excitement and a touch of nervousness.
“Do you know why we are so hungry these days?” she asked suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I pondered for a few seconds, before shaking my head.
My mother had a sorrowful gaze on her face. “Life has grown more difficult these few years,” she said softly. “We can no longer traverse the oceans.”
I stared at her with curious eyes, pausing my playful antics. “We can’t? Why not?”
Love Doesn’t Melt
My mother let out a tired sigh. “It is much too dangerous.”
“But…” I started, voice trailing as I looked down, “we’ll still be able to eat, right?” My mother pursed her lips and I went silent, the realization donning on me. We don’t have food.
We don’t have…anything.
I inhaled shakily, feeling my face heat up.
“Mama…are we going to die?”
I saw terror in my mother’s eyes.
The gentle eyes that soothed me were gone, replaced by a look of pure desperation. I couldn’t tell what emotion she was trying to convey. Sadness? Disappointment? Fear?
Or a mixture of all?
She scolded me for talking nonsense, telling me never to speak of such misfortune again. I knew I shouldn’t have spoken like that, but deep down I had a feeling I was right.
Somewhere inside of me, I heard an ominous voice telling me over and over again that we wouldn’t make it.
My mother didn’t utter a single word after that.
The innocent smile that I wore so proudly disappeared from my lips.
#
“Eat,” my mother instructed, nudging the few wild berries we found on our way back toward me. I shifted away, shaking my head.
My mother picked me up by the neck, dragging me in front of the food.
Love Doesn’t Melt
“Eat,” she demanded.
I shook my head.
I refused to eat until she had eaten something before me.
“Mama,” I started, voice unusually quiet despite the howling winds outside, “please, eat.” My mother didn’t budge.
I climbed my way over to her, placing a paw on hers. “Mama…you need to eat.” She remained silent.
I grabbed the berries myself and split them into two piles: one big and one small. With a heartfelt glance at my mother, I pushed the bigger pile over.
“Please, Mama? I’m not very hungry, I promise.”
And only then did my mother finally give in, letting out a sigh before grabbing the two plumpest berries of her pile and dropping them into my paws.
“Don’t argue. Just eat,” she ordered.
I opened my mouth to argue, but my stomach growled loudly before I could make a sound. I couldn’t resist anymore.
I stuffed my face full of the berries, reminding myself to remember the delicious taste so I wouldn’t miss it too much in the next few months. I kept an eye on my mother, making sure she ate her fill before climbing over to her, wrapping myself in her warm arms.
She hugged me tightly, stroking the top of my head with gentle movements. “We can make it,” I whispered softly. “Everything’ll be alright.”
We just have to have hope.