The Scent of Almonds

Hiding within a tangled brush of leaves and sticks, he watches as it passes by. Muscles ripple beneath the creature’s matted fur with each step, drool and blood dripping from its jaws. Silent, he holds his breath as the creature lowers its head, sniffing the ground.

A distant sound breaks the stillness—a human voice, faint but distinct. The creature’s ears snap upright, its eyes locking onto the source of the noise. It drops the lifeless body from its jaws and immediately takes off, vanishing into the undergrowth.

The threat is gone.

Slowly, he emerges from the brush. Sunlight pierces through the branches, glinting off his long, bristly gray fur. A baby squirrel. He shuffles forward, a soft, mournful squeak escaping his tiny throat.

There, lying on the forest floor, rests his mother. Her body is riddled with puncture wounds, the soil beneath her darkened by what had been taken from her. Her fur, rough and tangled, clings to the earth as if refusing to let go. The light above, fractured by the branches, touches her with a fleeting softness before fading into the night. A hush lingers...

Hours pass. The baby squirrel refuses to leave her side. Crows begin to gather, hopping closer with each passing minute. When one ventures too near, he rushes at it with a high-pitched chirr, but the bird merely flutters back, unfazed. His tiny claws are no match for them. Ants have already begun their steady procession across his mother’s body.

The night air grows cold, and the crows settle into the branches above. Patient and waiting, they watch, knowing he will soon tire out.

Shivering, he curls against his mother's side, his eyes half-lidded, his breath shallow. His tiny body trembles with exhaustion, and though he has only just begun to explore the world, he seems to understand—his time is ending.

Perhaps it is the flicker of memories keeping him awake—the warmth of his mother as she hoarded acorns in their den, preparing for the winter’s chill. It was only days ago that he had first ventured beyond their nest, his mother always close by, keeping him safe…

Until today…

Today, when the creature burst from the bushes—a tempest of teeth and rage—his instincts screamed at him to hide!

Until her final cry split the air—a sound he had never heard her make before…

The memories fade, taken too by the forest, swallowed without a trace.

The forest is no longer a place of safety—only a hollow stage of sounds: the distant crack of branches, the rustle of unseen wings. The air feels heavier, as if holding its breath. The crows, still perched above, watch with cold patience. The wind brushes through the trees, carrying with it the scent of earth and the whisper of something approaching.

Suddenly, the crunch of footsteps through the leaves is upon him.

A shadow appears—no, two. One tall, and the other low to the ground.

A human girl steps into the clearing, a creature walking beside her—one not unlike the beast that killed his mother, but smaller, gentler. A cord extends from the girl’s hand, looping around the creature’s neck.

The creature halts, nose twitching as it spots the baby squirrel. But he is too weak to flee, too tired to care. He can only stare.

The girl notices him.

"Sit, boy," she says softly.

The creature obeys, settling on its rear.

Looking back at the baby squirrel, her gaze falls onto the still body beside him. Lingering on the mother squirrel’s form, a flicker of sadness comes over her. Turning to the shivering baby, her breath hitches—a sound so quiet it might as well be the wind sighing through the forest.

"It's okay," she whispers.

The girl kneels, rummaging through her jacket pocket, and retrieves something from a crinkling bag. She extends her hand. In her palm rests an almond.

The baby squirrel’s limbs lock, his heart pounding frantically against his ribs. But he cannot tear his gaze away from the nut. His belly aches with hunger, but fear roots him in place.

The girl sets the almond on the ground and steps back. She then sits cross-legged a short distance away. There, she waits.

Moments pass. The world is silent, except for the soft rustle of leaves and the distant calls of the crows—still perched above, still watching.

The almond’s scent—sweet and rich—becomes unbearable. Hunger wins. Trembling, he inches forward, his tiny paws seizing the nut. He nibbles, quick and cautious, never taking his eyes off of the girl.

She smiles and offers another, this time holding it closer.

He hesitates, every instinct screaming to run. Yet… the warmth of her presence feels different from that of the predator—calmer. Safer. And the cold, creeping darkness inside him lessens, if only so ever slightly.

After a long, uncertain moment, he reaches for the nut, his tiny claws brushing her skin.

The girl stays perfectly still, her breath steady.

When the nut is gone, her hand remains, palm open on the earth. An invitation.

The cold is sharp and biting now, seeping from the air and the ground. His thin fur no longer offers any resistance.

With trembling effort, he slowly climbs into her palm. A faint, steady warmth meets his tiny paws.

His paw lifts—hesitates—then lands back in her palm.

She doesn’t close her fingers around him. Doesn’t trap him. Instead, she freely offers her warmth.

And after a moment, he allows himself to fully rest against her skin, his tiny body snuggling into her hand.

The girl rises slowly, cupping him carefully, holding him close to her chest.

Beside her, the dog waits quietly, his tail wagging. He makes no move to harm the fragile creature.

The crows stir in the branches—restless, hungry—but unwilling to challenge this new guardian.

That night, a girl and her dog walked out of the woods with a baby squirrel cradled gently in her hands.

And that night, a baby squirrel—who had lost everything—carried something new in his heart:

Her warmth.