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+--- Thread: Sun Mote Copse I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies (/showthread.php?tid=34483)
I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Wildfire - May 16, 2019
Following her bloody coughing fit at the Blackthorns' den, Wildfire had retreated to her own. Part of her wondered if she should go into solitude to avoid spreading her mysterious illness. But, deep down, the Sovereign knew her ailment was as contagious as it was curable: that was, it was neither. She couldn't explain how or why she knew this; the knowledge simply sank into the marrow of her weary bones. She had made herself as comfortable as possible in the dim of the den after asking @Eljay to keep an eye on @Elfie and @Weejay so she could nap. But she didn't sleep. She lay there in the dark, facing her own mortality.
A few days later, she emerged for the first time to accomplish more than a quick potty break. She felt weak and depleted (she hadn't eaten much these past few days), plus a little feverish on top of that. But she'd actually managed to get some sleep last night through to early this afternoon and she felt a little revived. Wildfire knew better than to read too deeply into that or to let herself hope. But she definitely wanted to take advantage of it and looked around for any sign of her mate and pups. Surely they wouldn't be far. And maybe @Kiwi would make a reappearance too.
Setting for 5/20.
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Weejay - May 16, 2019
Mortality was mercifully a concept Weejay had yet to understand, but she did know this: her mother was not well. After her sickness had turned into something more withdrawn, Weejay grew troubled — especially since her father seemed worried himself, and had kept the children from tormenting or pestering Wildfire while she recovered.
MOMMY!Weejay had yelled loudly, more than once too — but it was to no avail. Her mother’s figure did not reappear, and the den’s shadow remained unbroken.
Weejay had not taken to the separation well, as was to be expected — but the day her mommy reappeared, the girl was right by her side with a flourish of nimble licks and kisses — even if Eljay tried to hold her back in the process.
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Wildfire - May 20, 2019
She told herself to keep it together. Her secret was out now, so to speak, but only the adults could understand Wildfire's plight. She didn't want her young children to be affected. Of course, they would be affected once she... her throat constricted at the thought, even as Weejay threw herself into her mother's arms.
Just like that, she was bawling. She held Weejay close against her heaving chest, kissing the crown of her head and nosing her cheeks. If this was really the end of her, she was going to miss so much. But what made the tears splash down her cheeks was the thought of leaving her kids without a mother. They would be in good hands with Eljay and the rest of the pack, yet no child deserved to lose a mother at this tender age. What would it do to them?
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Weejay - May 20, 2019
Weejay licked excitedly at Wildfire's cheeks, overjoyed to see her and forgetting almost instantly that there had been some time, concerning time too, where Wildfire had been isolated. When she drew back from her huddle of hugs and kisses, she noticed Mommy was crying.
That didn't seem right; only she cried, when she got hurt or Elfie played too rough -- and maybe Elfie cried occasionally too, but Weejay had never seen Mommy cry. She sniffed suspiciously, propping her thick stubby legs against her mother's ruff to push herself away and inspect what was wrong. She couldn't see any thorns, and there weren't any bees or obvious marks -- but Mommy was clearly hurt, and it stressed Weejay out to the point where she started to pant fearfully. "Mommy, what wrong?" The girl cried, finding tears welling in her eyes too.
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Wildfire - May 20, 2019
Hearing her child's distressed cry made Wildfire hiccup herself into silence. She blinked wetly at the concerned little girl, biting her lip as she pondered how to explain herself. Should she lie? No, she immediately decided that she wasn't going to leave this life by misleading her child, making the inevitable loss hurt all the worse. But how on earth could she convey what all of this meant to someone as young as Weejay? There was absolutely no way this wasn't going to have a huge impact on her one way or another and there was nothing Wildfire could do but try to cushion the blow.
"I'm sad," she began, feeling herself choking up and breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth to try to calm herself, "because I have to go away and I'm going to miss you. I don't want to leave." As she said these words, she dropped down to the pup's level to look her in the eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her voice shook as she willed Weejay to understand that, "I love you so, so, so much. I would never leave you or your brother on purpose. But I'm—" Her voice wavered dangerously and Wildfire wasn't sure she could continue.
For the moment, while she tried to collect herself, she leaned forward so their foreheads bumped gently together. Her eyes closed and she breathed in Weejay's—her final daughter's—scent, which was intertwined with her last son's, as well as her mate's. "Your daddy and Elfie will be here with you," she found the strength to whisper, "and I'll be with you in spirit, always. Do you know what 'spirit' means, Weejay?"
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Weejay - May 21, 2019
Weejay didn't like seeing Mommy cry. It was one thing when she cried (undeserved), another thing when Elfie cried (usually deserved).. but seeing Mommy this distressed awoke something in Weejay she had no words for. Blatant, outright, undeniable fear. Like being at the edge of a massive drop or precipice, and being pushed -- feeling that moment right before gravity kicked in.
Weejay had never hated anything in her life -- and would not hate anything more than how much she hated that feeling. It was a helpless terror, a fear too real for one so young as her to feel. It was instinct, dread, fear, all crumbling into one overwhelming emotion. Her sobs stopped, and she started to rock back and forth, deaf to her Mommy's words. All these words about going somewhere, leaving, not doing it on purpose, spirits -- she suddenly shook her head violently, closing her eyes and rocking even more furiously against her Mommy's paws.
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Wildfire - May 21, 2019
It was too much for such a little one to bear. Wildfire could see that and it put a lump in her throat. She pressed her eyes closed and clutched her daughter close, kissing her brow and not saying anything more on the subject. Hopefully Weejay would somehow keep this memory, to look back on one day... or perhaps it was best if she simply forgot most of this. Although that thought—that her children might very well forget her for the most part—wounded the dying mother in the worst possible way, she found herself almost wishing for it, for their sake...
Better yet, she wanted Weejay and Elfie to remember her fondly, for their memories of her to be happy ones. Shifting her focus away from trying to impart her mortality on her young daughter, Wildfire said, "I wonder what you'll be when you grow up? Maybe a caretaker, like your daddy? Or maybe a hunter like me? Maybe you'll go traveling, like I used to do when I was young. I hope you'll have kids, if that's what you want, and someone who loves you like your daddy loves me." It was a stream of consciousness, her musing, and although it made her bitterly sad that she wouldn't be there for any of it, picturing Weejay's potential still brought a smile to her chapped lips.
"Hey," she continued after a pause, plucking up a paw to gently touch Weejay's nose, "would you like to play a game? Or hear a story?" Because, right now, she was only a baby and, for her mother, that's all she would ever be.
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Weejay - May 30, 2019
Wildfire pulled her close, and Weejay did not fight it: she embraced it the way one hungered for life would embrace physical affection, her little arms wrapped and grabbing whatever she could, to hold tight and never let go. Sniffling into Wildfire's fiery fur, Weejay only half-listened. "I wanna go with you," She cried, her face damp against the warmth of her mother's coat. "I go," Weejay concluded resolutely, a clumsy and thick paw brought across her face to wipe her tears away.
It was wise that Wildfire attempted to change the subject, for the girl was on the verge of hysterics even though she did not know it. Glumly, she clutched her mommy's arms hard. "Flowers." She sniffed, her watery gaze lifted to view her dam's face. She had no aspirations to be anything yet, she was too young -- but she knew she loved and cared for flowers immensely.. almost as much as she cared and loved for her mommy.
Weejay didn't want to go anywhere, and so shook her head when Wildfire offered to play. She would not let go - if she never let go, then her mommy couldn't go anywhere, right? "Story." The usually garrulous girl was monosyllabic in the present, her voice tinged with tired sorrow.
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Wildfire - June 03, 2019
It touched her, that Weejay wanted to go with her, but of course the girl didn't know what she was saying. And every string in her mother's heart recoiled at the thought of her child dying. "You have to live a long, happy life," she murmured by way of indirect reply, bending to kiss the tears budding at the corners of Weejay's eyes.
She didn't feel like playing, which made sense. Wildfire's heart wasn't really light enough for it either, nor would her body like it much. That said, she would've done anything Weejay asked, anything that was within her power, in any case. "Would you like a story about flowers?" she asked, curious about the single word her daughter had said just before requesting a story.
While she waited for an answer, Wildfire's eyes strayed to the side, catching sight of a dandelion. It was only a weed. Nonetheless, she leaned over and clipped its stem with her teeth, then delicately tucked it behind Weejay's ear before pulling back and smiling. Tears slid silently from the corners of her eyes, which somehow smiled too.
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Weejay - June 04, 2019
Weejay held tight to her mother still, though she looked up as Wildfire offered a story about flowers. Rendered mute by her apprehension, Weejay could only summon a nod in response. She wrapped her little paws tighter around her Mommy's thin arm, looking up only as her mother shifted away and gently tucked a dandelion into the crease of her velvety ears. Weejay could not muster her usual bright grin, but a short smile briefly crossed her features before it was eclipsed by a child's wide-eyed dread. She wanted to listen to her Mommy's story, of course, but she also was so overwhelmed by the change that had overcome Wildfire.
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Wildfire - June 07, 2019
Wildfire didn't fancy herself a storyteller, nor did she have a very large mental library. However, she called up one brief and lighthearted yarn that she thought Weejay might like. Clutching her daughter close, the Sovereign cleared her aching throat and began.
"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful flower with very attractive colors: brilliant red, orange and yellow. The flower was very happy because everybody said she was beautiful. One day, it began to rain during sunrise and did not stop until nightfall.
When the flower woke up the next day and opened her petals, she realized they had all lost their color. Now they were white like snow! What had happened? The flower was so sad, she could not stop crying," Wildfire said, rubbing a paw over her child's tear-stained cheeks before declaring, "Suddenly, a fairy with wings and a long tail, colored like the rainbow, appeared!
'What's wrong, beautiful flower? Why are you crying?'" the mother recited, changing her voice to suit the characters in the narrative.
'Because I have lost my lovely colors. The rain last night has erased them completely.'
'Don't worry! I will give you them back with my magic stick! But under one condition...'
'Which one?' asked the flower.
'I want you to delight everybody with your colors but also with a nice perfume.'
The flower accepted and the fairy spilled on her a liquid from the tip of the stick, so that the other flowers and inhabitants of the field could enjoy the smell of that slight perfume. Then she used that magic stick to paint the flower's petals with patience until she was as beautiful as before.
The flower thanked the fairy and promised she would keep flooding the field with her perfume, sharing it with everybody."
Short story translated from shortstories.net.
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Weejay - June 17, 2019
Weejay snuggled deep into her mother's embrace, ready for story-time. Her eyes were still damp, but they had lost their generous weeping. Her ears canted forward in interest, listening as Wildfire told a story uniquely suited to the girl. She groaned when the flower was revealed to have lost its color ('will it be okay, Mommy?' she had piqued), and then thrummed her little paws and grinned when the fairy came ('oooOOO!'). Once the story was over, the girl nudged her mother's cheek and spoke. "I wish I could find a fairy," She murmured softly, nosing through her mother's bright fur; she didn't want it to fade like the flower's did, and maybe if she found a fairy she could wish her mommy well at any cost.
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Wildfire - June 17, 2019
Weejay's remark gave Wildfire pause and, abruptly, a notion blossomed like a colorful flower in her mind. "Weejay," she said, her chestnut eyes wrought but bright, "you do have a fairy." She wasn't really the spiritual type, necessarily, nor would she have put such whimsical notions in her daughter's head if not for these circumstances.
Gently moving so they were facing one another, Wildfire bent down so they were nose to nose and eye to eye. "Even if you can't see me, I'll always be with you." No, she didn't literally believe in the afterlife, nor in guardian angels, but Wildfire still liked to think there was truth to what she said. "I'll always be a part of you, no matter what, like your fairy godmother, only your fairy just-your-mother." Despite everything, that made her laugh quietly.
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Weejay - July 01, 2019
Weejay's sorrowed eyes lifted from the tinged russet of her mother's fur. She had a fairy? She looked upon her mother hopefully, feeling something bright chase away the dark that had nestled in her heart. If she had a fairy, she could wish anything -- and she knew exactly what her wish would be. She clutched her mother tightly, feeling her tail stir as Wildfire spoke.
Only.. it didn't make sense to Weejay; was she trading her mommy for a fairy? She didn't like that barter, and her nose scrunched up in dislike. The rest of what Wildfire intoned was only barely registered, for Weejay was so transfixed on the fact that Wildfire was going somewhere and somehow also was a fairy, who she wouldn't get to see, but would always be there? "But," Weejay stuttered, finding herself at a loss for words. Then finally, it came to her.
"Can't I have both?"
RE: I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies - Wildfire - July 01, 2019
Fading, as agreed upon in the other thread. :')
She had tried framing it as if she was a spirit, then a fairy, and it seemed Weejay either couldn't understand or accept either, which was of course understandable. She was too young to comprehend the permanence of death, much too young to be losing her mother. Wildfire found herself silent at the impasse, wishing she had better answers, more sufficient explanations, for her little girl. It was all so unfair.
"C'mere, Weejay," she asked quietly, voice barely more than a whisper. She invited the babe into the cradle of her arms, holding her close and kissing the top of her head as she began another story, a happy tale that would hopefully lift the pup's spirits. There was nothing else Wildfire could do for her child except offer comfort in the present and, hopefully, in the future, when a woman grown looked back on this fond final memory of her fiery dam.