He quivered.

His withered form made frail by the lack of water in his community. All of his neighbors had managed to sustain water to continue on. Why was he different? He choked on the dryness, and gave in. A silent scream broke the calm of night as his body went limp.

But he did not fall to the ground.

He was being supported by all of his neighbors, his friends. Their arms holding his vacant corpse, not allowing space for the lost soul to impact with the frost-bitten ground.

A tragic display of beauty.

There they remained, slowly dying of thirst; a strength in numbers, but an inevitably lost battle. One by one they fell, adding more burden to the others. Until the last few broke under the pressure, killed by the weight of their fallen comrades.

One, solitary blade of grass remained, unaffected by the first frost, but he, too, will end up submitting to the arrival of Winter.

Quickly and silently, he says good bye.