Sun Mote Copse I'm not about to fight until the last of me dies

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.