Post by 13xdays on Sept 24, 2006 21:00:47 GMT -5
Tears splashed down her face; her tail, once so neatly groomed and held high with pride, was matted, scruffy, and hanging limply in the dust. Whiskers lie dirtied on her cheeks, twisted with maybe a moon of not being groomed.
Paws heavily thudded against the dry earth, disturbing the dust and sending hazes of it around her small, sleek form, making her already dusty pale ginger coat even dirtier. Her petite form, so frail, so beaten and misshapen..
Who could have done this to such a beautiful she-cat? For, she had not been this way all her pathetic life. She had once had a groomed pale ginger pelt, gleaming like sunshine, it was almost golden, gleaming like shining bits of amber. Her tail had been pretty as a fox's; she had always been small and sweet, quiet and smart.
She had also had high hopes and dreams, but all of that had been cursed, blackened, and thwarted; or, rather, Swartted downward. Because she had met--and been attracted to--him.
"Bluefen," Swartt had said as she lie inside her den in her parents' small, cozy home, "Come wit' me, and we'll twine our destinies, with t' life of a pirate," he'd cried, his beautiful, emerald-chip eyes twinkling with promise.
And Bluefen had believed, like a fool. She'd admired Swartt many times; his powerful sixclawed paw ready for battle any time of the day, his temper flashing wildly and making his sleek brown coat bristle, his neatly groomed white throatfur...
But she shouldn't have believed. Bluefen stopped, panting, and the trail of blood behind her stopped, too. She lied down on the ground, eyes terrified, their dark amber clouding with sleepiness. She left her ginger head on her paws, as she closed her dark eyes, and a little peace came over her tortured soul as a child slid from her womb, covered with blood and afterbirth.
Weakly, she reached to clean the child's fur, and soon the brown shone sleekly, the white on his throat gleaming like snow, the eyes, clear blue like a sky, just like all kits' when they were first born, twinkling. But then Bluefen froze, and her head dropped to her paws.
Death was written on the beautiful, petite she-cat; the last thing she had seen was the sixclaws on her son's right frontpaw, and no wonder the birth had been such a hassle; the claws had been extended on the way to the world, and had damaged her womb while he clawed the inside of Bluefen, battling to be free.
Before the femme's death, she screeched, "Veil!"
Then her eyes were glazed in death.
The mate of Swartt Sixclaw and the mother of Veil Sixclaw was dead.
Paws heavily thudded against the dry earth, disturbing the dust and sending hazes of it around her small, sleek form, making her already dusty pale ginger coat even dirtier. Her petite form, so frail, so beaten and misshapen..
Who could have done this to such a beautiful she-cat? For, she had not been this way all her pathetic life. She had once had a groomed pale ginger pelt, gleaming like sunshine, it was almost golden, gleaming like shining bits of amber. Her tail had been pretty as a fox's; she had always been small and sweet, quiet and smart.
She had also had high hopes and dreams, but all of that had been cursed, blackened, and thwarted; or, rather, Swartted downward. Because she had met--and been attracted to--him.
"Bluefen," Swartt had said as she lie inside her den in her parents' small, cozy home, "Come wit' me, and we'll twine our destinies, with t' life of a pirate," he'd cried, his beautiful, emerald-chip eyes twinkling with promise.
And Bluefen had believed, like a fool. She'd admired Swartt many times; his powerful sixclawed paw ready for battle any time of the day, his temper flashing wildly and making his sleek brown coat bristle, his neatly groomed white throatfur...
But she shouldn't have believed. Bluefen stopped, panting, and the trail of blood behind her stopped, too. She lied down on the ground, eyes terrified, their dark amber clouding with sleepiness. She left her ginger head on her paws, as she closed her dark eyes, and a little peace came over her tortured soul as a child slid from her womb, covered with blood and afterbirth.
Weakly, she reached to clean the child's fur, and soon the brown shone sleekly, the white on his throat gleaming like snow, the eyes, clear blue like a sky, just like all kits' when they were first born, twinkling. But then Bluefen froze, and her head dropped to her paws.
Death was written on the beautiful, petite she-cat; the last thing she had seen was the sixclaws on her son's right frontpaw, and no wonder the birth had been such a hassle; the claws had been extended on the way to the world, and had damaged her womb while he clawed the inside of Bluefen, battling to be free.
Before the femme's death, she screeched, "Veil!"
Then her eyes were glazed in death.
The mate of Swartt Sixclaw and the mother of Veil Sixclaw was dead.
