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+--- Thread: Sun Mote Copse If you could see what I see, you'd be blinded by the colours (/showthread.php?tid=36211)
If you could see what I see, you'd be blinded by the colours - Colt RIP - August 21, 2019
Colt waited for the weariness to pass, but instead, it got steadily worse. He tried to keep up appearances, but more and more, leaving bed seemed insurmountable as his body rebelled. Something poisoned had taken hold, festering in the wounds, and he began to flag. Summons came unanswered, hunts grew impossible, and it was all he could do to maintain short patrols.
He felt the icy hand of fear as he continued to maintain a lightness for his family, but doubtless they could sense as well as he something was wrong. He waited, surely it would pass. He was Colt fucking Blackthorn... yet not so immortal as he had always convinced himself.
When the fever struck him, burning through his veins and reserves like fire, he knew. It was instinctual, and somehow, as it worsened, he managed to haul himself away. He made it nearly to the lake, to a small copse, before his strength failed him and he collapsed.
Nell was there. He knew it before he saw her, but of course, because his mind had placed her there. The pain that struck him in that moment was overwhelming; Niamh. He saw it reflected on the spectral features of Nell. She'd held his heart once, but she didn't any longer, and leaving Niamh to go with her tore him to the bone. And his kids....
Colt bared his fangs at her, fevered eyes desperate. But she just lowered her head and shook it, once, and suddenly the fight left him. She was a reminder, a ghost of what those he left would be losing, but also proof that life would move on. He'd found love again after her, and surely his family would continue, even if he could not stay to see it. He was so tired.
The sorrow did not leave, but some of his fear did, and as he relaxed his breath stilled. Colt had never expected his death to come quietly, but it did, as silently he stood and followed his old friend into the darkness. The body behind lay empty and Colt Blackthorn departed on that last, and greatest, journey.
RE: If you could see what I see, you'd be blinded by the colours - RIP Niamh - August 22, 2019
Since she had returned, Colt's condition had not improved much. The pack was so short on adult members, so when he weakened, hunting to support him became a task that Niamh took upon herself, trying not to ask too much of the others. She had mentioned her worries to @Finley when she noticed that Colt had begun to grow weaker. His spirits remained high, and he put on a good face for the kids- but Niamh wouldn't be fooled. Niamh knew well enough that he wasn't getting better.
It seemed like he was holding on- until he wasn't, any longer. Everything went downhill so fast, and the morning the fever came, she was out hunting for him until something in the wind shifted. There was an odd silence that fell, and a stillness that hung on the air that caused the fur along the nape of her neck to bristle and lift. She growled as she paused for a moment, looking over her shoulder as though expecting something to leap out at her any instant. But rather than having something charge at her, she felt something pull her, tugging at her instincts. She abandoned her hunt and returned to the den, only to find it was empty.
Cold, feverish dread filled her chest, stealing her breath away. "Colt?" She hollered, her voice thick with emotion. She knew the scent of sickness, and she followed it as it led away from the den- so fresh it made her gag. His trail led toward the lake so for a few moments, she harboured the hope that maybe he had just gone to get a drink. She wanted to see him there, standing, with his head lowered, lapping at the water's surface- only to see that he had collapsed, and was laying still by the lake's side. Too still.
"Colt!" She yelled, and slid to a stop near his side. Before even checking him, she bellowed out a call for aid- a throaty, terrified sound that leapt into the air, hanging there shrill and unwavering for a moment even after she'd finished calling. She nudged his shoulders and stepped over him, to nudge his other side, frantically trying to push some life back into him. "Get up, Colt, please," She begged, shoving his shoulders with the top of her muzzle, but he simply rocked with her movement and became still again. With a sob, she lay down beside him, and nudged his muzzle; she'd only just missed him, as his body was still warm beside her, soft and gentle, but relaxed so heavily that there was no way it would ever move on its own again. Her cries filled the air as she sobbed into the coarse fur of Colt's shoulder, feeling more helpless now than she ever had before.
RE: If you could see what I see, you'd be blinded by the colours - Nellie - August 23, 2019
Of course she had noticed Daddy wasn't as lively as when she had first seen him. As she grew stronger, her father's health was slowly but surely declining after an incident she knew little about. She had heard whispers here and there, but didn't grasp the seriousness of it all. Daddy was just feeling under the weather, he'd feel better in no time! Surely if Nellie gave him all her love and she'd fight a little less with Bronco and behave, everything would turn out fine!
She truly believed her father would be alright, be the strong man leading their little family forever as he had been all her life. That was, until she heard her mother. She felt a weird bubbling feeling in her stomach. Mother didn't sound scared or wounded or angry. Nellie had never heard such emotion, had never even known grief. She barely had a grasp on living and dying as it was, but she had heard Elfie mention he didn't have a mom anymore, but boys lied a lot so maybe she had just left. Not that death was much different, the ones you love just one day leave and never come back and you can't feel or smell or hear that voice ever again, only in your memories. Nellie didn't have many memories of Daddy, she didn't have many in general, but to think that she would soon need to treasure all the little details about her father... Where would she even begin?
Nellie padded onto the scene, tipping her head to the side.
Mommy?She asked, inching closer. Daddy lay beside her, sleeping.
Why isn't Daddy sleeping in the den?She asked. It was warm enough to sleep outside, but she didn't want it to become a habit or something. He was breathing so peacefully she didn't even see it. It had to be a very relaxing dream.
What's wrong?
RE: If you could see what I see, you'd be blinded by the colours - RIP Bronco - August 26, 2019
Normally, Bronco would have ignored his mom when she called. He was busy chewing away on an elk antler, sharpening his teeth- or so he figured. The more he chewed, the sharper they'd get, right? Then he'd be a force to reckon with. The elk antler was very sturdy though, and thus far his teeth were no match for it- nor were his jaws. But he still worked away, and his parents didn't seem to mind that he spent a lot of his downtime chewing away on it. It kept him quiet and still, and that wasn't a bad thing. But when his mother's call raised the fur along the back of his neck, he stiffened and his eyes narrowed. He'd heard that tone of voice before- or something similar to it. That shrillness...That horrible sound meant that she was really, really upset.
He left the elk antler and loped toward the lake where his mom's call had come from, only to see a confused a tentative looking Nellie, and her mom laying down next to dad. He missed Nellie's question, but moved closer on his own to investigate, only to see that Colt's sides weren't moving, and his facial expression was calm and blank. Nellie didn't look terribly stressed, which perplexed Bronco- but then again, she hadn't had the same experience he had. He'd been out in the wild with his mom, and she'd had to hunt for them, and he'd witnessed everything. Bronco knew what death was- he'd seen his mom kill to feed them. She'd explained that it was necessary- and that everyone, even wolves, died eventually. She'd explained about infections- and now he simply couldn't believe it.
He stepped back, exhaling sharply, and shook his head. "No!" He barked, anger and sadness sharpening his tone. Tears filled his eyes. "Dad can't be-" He said, shaking his head. He flattened his ears, glaring down at his dad almost spitefully. How could he die? From an infection? Infections were for weak wolves! Then again, his wounds had been so deep, so painful...But he refused to believe it. Bronco spun on his heel and dashed off before his mother or sister could say or do anything.