The little pup, five days of age and already orphaned, stumbled across the ground. She had carnations in a glorious red stretching across her back. The tired, weak child might have had perkier flowers, except that she was hungry and exhausted. As a consequence, they were beginning to wilt.
She had no idea she was trespassing. How could a little pup know? Oh, little Aadya, the name her mother had given to her just before passing. Aadya’s mind made little space for wondering about what had happened to her siblings, though she’d wondered when she first realized she had gotten lost. Aadya’s family was long gone-her parents dead; her siblings perhaps meeting the same fate, and all she wanted was a home, a home that provided her shelter and safety and warmth and certainty and food. How was she to know that she might die before she reached that?
“Hello?” she called out, weakly. “Hello? My name is Aadya! Can anyone help me? Please.” The little lass collapsed in a mess of tears. “Where am I . . .” This exhalation was barely more than a whisper. She passed out, too exhausted and devoid of nutrition to carry on.

“And I, I want all the tears back that I cried!”