Where does the time go?

Friend told me I should write for a contest.

I did the writing part on a whim from a spur of inspiration, though I likely won't be submitting it.

It had to feel cozy, have a sense of running out of time, and an animal companion.

Figured I'd share the messy draft <3

Where does the time go?

      Crackling embers danced into the air above the robust logs laid within the finely aged black stone hearth.

   A warming flame cascading soft amber waves against the deep mahogany of the shack's walls. Worn but resilience testament to a ionate carpenter.

     Ingo, a small canine with his sleek black pelt speckled with silver. His attentive golden eyes gazing at the old, single door of the building.

     Remaining still on his pile of thatch, ears of a bobcat pinning up as that signature loose hinge groaned under the weight of the wooden . The cool breeze invited itself in with a man. His pointed ears, rigid and scarred. Clothed in a thick dark leather coat filled with wool. His crisp auburn eyes delighted to see little Ingo.

    A discomforted groan, the man shed his extra layers, remaining in only rough burlap rags. The dark green silk scarf his only item that hadn't suffered effects from the venom of time. He gingerly forced the door back into place, ushering the cold out.

    With uneasy steps he hobbled to the fire, dropping snow dusted branches upon it.

     Ingo stood, stretching his limbs to their fullest before whining quietly. His master's form had gotten far more feeble, his veiny, bony fingers descending upon his snout to offer comforting but frozen consolation.

       "I know you don't like me going alone, but it is much too cold for you." His raspy voice piped up. His words were meek, a subtle joy that could soothe like no other.

     He shuffled his arching form over to a torn velvet lined rocking chair; cracked and faded. It's once brilliant chestnut sheen now dulled. He ran his palm over the carefully once rounded edge of the armrest, now warped and knurled like himself.

     A bright smile as he recalled that beautiful starlight afternoon he built this chair The wonderful glowing hues of every living thing under the eclipsed sky. A time before they had come. His eyes softly closed as his fingers came to a halt on the scorched surfaces. His brows knitting, a silent battle to deny territory to the heart wrenching memories.

  A complacent sigh as he turned and eased into the creaking seat, exhaling as his body was alleviated from the burden of standing. His companion leapt with caution, curling upon his lap.

    The man gazed out his cracked window across from the flames out into the snow covered wastes, a magnificent purple hue from the volcanic light Malugahn provided from the heavens as it crossed the sky toward its meridian. He pulled his hand close to his chest and rubbed the obsidian surface of a dragon's claw hanging from a length of string.

    He leaned back as the enduring chair squeaked and settled, its balance shifting to the rear. He listened to the gentle pops and whispers of the fire in tandem with the old rickety ticking of a clock.

   His flushed eyelids lifted slowly, gazing upon the Cebrian made contraption made of a deep cherry wood and finely cut copper hands. It's old frail mechanisms making it day after day even far beyond when they had been tainted by a deep green. The quivering needles clicked into place at midnight and motion ceased.

Ingo gazed upon it, the recurrent clicking no more.

     "Oh Ingo...where has the time gone?" The man forced his lips to upturn as he placed a frozen hand upon his loyal friend.

       Leaning back to rest, and closing his eyes with a smile... for what time would say; only a little while.