It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

Style

you cannot feed someone truth

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

Rain, starting