Sun Mote Copse Sweet child o' mine.

Aches and pains plagued Towhee in the week following the Battle of the Pig. Although it wasn't visible beneath her dark fur, she imagined there was an enormous bruise purpling much of her right flank, spreading across the flesh beyond her ribs. It was quite tender, particularly to the touch. Her left hip also smarted with nearly every step. Although she couldn't quite recall—clichéd as it was, everything had happened so fast—she imagined she'd landed on it when the hog had tossed her. There were smaller hurts elsewhere, though these it was these two pain points which prevented her from patrolling as much as she'd like and often compelled Towhee to dunk herself in the frigid river just to get a break from the chronic discomfort.

Rather than fading over time, as injuries were typically wont to do, the opposite proved true: with each passing day, Towhee felt worse and worse. This afternoon, the pain actually spread. It radiated from both hips and it was almost as if the bruise had sunken much further than skin deep, burrowing through flesh, muscle and bone to embed in and sour her stomach. She tried to push through the pain, foregoing the lure of her resting place at the rendezvous site and head out for an evening patrol. While she slowly walked the borders, she felt a fluttering in her abdomen and a light bulb clicked in her head. It wasn't her wounds, it was just gas.

By the time she returned to the rendezvous site, Towhee felt like she had to let out the biggest fart of her life. She settled down on the ground and curled into a ball, hoping the pressure would force it out of her. When that didn't do it, she pushed, hard, desperate for relief. But she managed only a tiny squeak she couldn't hear. It didn't alleviate the cramping and she felt lightheaded from her efforts, so she unfurled and slumped to the ground, where she lay restlessly until she somehow dropped off to sleep.

When she woke, it was well past nightfall. Towhee lurched upright, noting that @Phox, @Figment and @Fennec were asleep nearby even as she realized she was about to have an accident. Alarmed, she made an abortive attempt to move away from the others, though there wasn't time. A horrific cramp seared through her, forcing her into a squat, and diarrhea gushed out of the Regent with explosive force. She moaned, horribly certain that she'd just splattered her own family with hot, smelly feces. Before she could do anything about it, another wave burst from her. It felt solider, somehow, and ripped from her body so painfully that she screamed.

The metallic scent of blood swamped her nose then and Towhee's breath caught with fear. Was she shitting out her insides?! She couldn't see much in the dark, though she looked down at the blackish, sticky puddle beneath her and saw the hugest turd she'd ever produced in her life. No fucking wonder, Towhee thought, still scared about the damage it had done to her asshole, when she noticed the length of intestine trailing out of her body, still attached to the monstrous lump of dung. It was at that point her soul began to leave her body. R-I-P in peace, was her final, wild thought before she slumped sideways.

But death didn't take her. She didn't even lose consciousness. With her cheek mashed to the ground, Towhee was afforded a closeup view of her own excrement, which was looking back at her, because it had a fucking face, although of course its eyes were closed. She stared, dazed, as the little piece of shit began to squirm, kicking its itty bitty arms and legs, wiggling its teeny weeny tail and opening its small mouth to let out what looked like a tiny roar.

This post spans several hours, from now (mid-afternoon) until past midnight, so I'm going to date it for the early hours of February 29. Surprise! :)