Closed Thread Feathers Take Flight

In death comes peace, united with starry forebears
. · ˚ ✧ · ˚ · ✧ ˚ · .

An older calico warrior kept pace with that of her younger son as they walked through and over the boughs of the grand willow of which their camp took shelter. It was good to catch up with Nettlepaw and had seen him tirelessly try to keep up with Willowfrost, who seemed only a matter of time before her eye sight would give way entirely.

Yet in front of the warrior's den she took pause, feeling lightheaded. She suspected it may be the heat that momentarily gave her such an unsettling feeling, but at that moment she inhaled deeply - or tried to inhale. Air was coming to her in short bursts and her eyes widened in panic. The vibe quickly shifted as she fell to the ground, legs kicking out from beneath her as she tried desperately to keep herself still.

Muscles twitching involuntarily, she could barely hear her son call out to her, having never known anything like this happen to her before. Her eyes rolled up and her mouth lolled, only to have a stick be jammed onto her tongue to keep her from swallowing it, or causing it to draw blood from an involuntary bite.

Saliva began to froth at her mouth, and distraught, Nettlepaw put some weight on her muzzle, keeping her turned where the liquid couldn't choke her. But eventually the fight would leave her body - whatever killer had claimed had done so unexpectedly, where no one might suspect the recent vole that had been picked from the pile.

rise from the smoldering pyre of wormwood and weeds
↫ ⭒ ☽ ⭒ 〄 ⭒ ☾ ⭒ ↬

"DUCKFEATHER!"

A yowl like alarm ran through the air as the apprentice dived to meet the she-cat who hit the ground. Within his chest pounded like a raging river, and he barely had time to breathe as blue eyes watched Duckfeather convulse on the loamy earth under the Twin willow. Never so quickly had he been forced to act and he felt at any moment he could fail - her life was at a precarious precipice and she was stepping off.

Racing across camp with almost reckless abandon, he gripped a stick in his jaws and hurried back, tail fluffed out standing straight out. He needed to keep her from biting down on her tongue and bleeding into the back of her throat. A madness entered his preparations, but even though he shook, he tended to her promptly. Stick pressing down her tongue, she was free to convulse. Surely this would pass... She'd get better, she'd turn back to her usual self...

"I need Willowfrost!"

With baited breath he loomed over her, a paw moving her head so at least she'd be able to dribble onto the ground. Another chocking hazard, but... so much frothy saliva, it seemed to pool from her and Nettlepaw could only stare helplessly as life began to drain from her body. What was happening - and why Duckfeather? A small eternity passed between them, and Nettlepaw held his mother's gaze for as long as he was able, his muzzle falling into her stilled flank at her passing. Inhaling her scent, unmoving - inconsolable.