She had not eaten. She had not slept.
The sun chased the tail of the moon and she found herself absolutely devastated to think she would never teach this to a child.
She lay against the cool earth of her den, and tried not to weep.
A gentle note of scent from the outside. Silvertongue, she guessed. Her heart wasn’t in it, really, but she turned her head to the den mouth and waited to see the silver spun woman appear in her line of sight.
Doedapple would raise her head as the food settled nearby, her eyes lifting listlessly from the offered meal to the woman who settled nearby. The healer assembled herself into an upright position, raising her head and rolling her body to one side.
There was silence. She stared at the squirrel, her stomach cramping but everything she knew saying she needed to eat at least something. Her eyes burned with the tears she had shed, and yet she knew there would be more.
The paw slid into her periphery. Doedapple turned her gaze to it, before looking up at Silvertongue. Quietly, trying to stifle the tears that so desperately wanted to well in her already aching eyes, she reached out to cover Silvertongue’s paw with her own.