Blackfoot Forest The Death of a Warrior is a Noble One

There was nothing left. Her home, stripped bare. Her garden, only dust was left. Her family was shaken, and that was not the worst of it. She had not predicted that the affect would be ten times worse than she thought. They were starving. The rations only worked for so long with what they had left. Birds had too seeked greenery for their own nutrition, and only the rare fish remained. Day by day, she started to come to the conslusion that they would die. Her already small frame had begun to shrink, along with everyone else too, making them too brittle to hunt for any stray stag that came by. She had grown accustomed to the dull ache in her stomach after a little while. She hardly had much energy to pick herself up anymore.

But when the sorrow filed call echoed throughed the barren forest, she found the might to travel towards it. Gotham lay, skinny as a twig with hardly much life in him at all. She colapsed at his side, her too feeling like it was all over. "Shhhh," There was no fight left in her, nor him. She could do nothing to save him, for she could not even feed herself. "It's just like falling asleep," She whispered. The only thing they could do now would be to make him comfortable, and from then on, fate would be his call. "And when you wake up, you'll never be hungry again," She did not know what she was saying, but that her subject was dying, and she could do nothing to save him. She had promised.