Lonesome Dove
By Fewthistle

Author's Note: Written for Storm Challenge at the LiveJournal community T100. Post-"Loss."

Alex watched the snow fall, the first real storm of the season. The birds in the feeder flitted back and forth between the bushes, streaks of color against the white.

A lone mourning dove landed somewhat unceremoniously in the center of the lawn. A soft, creamy gray, with pinkish red feet, she peered cautiously about, darting head and eyes taking in the sure, swift flight of the sparrows and cardinals, before she slowly moved toward the snowy ground under the feeder.

She seemed resigned to the hollow feast of soggy seeds dropped by the other birds, birds not frightened of their own shadow.

Alex knew just how she felt.