Redhawk Caldera Die young.

When Towhee opened her eyes, the Hobbit Hole was still dark, though the sky was beginning to brighten outside. It was pleasantly cool and, for once, all four puppies were quiet and still. She considered shutting her eyes again and catching a bit more sleep, though she sat up instead. She rolled her shoulders and arched her back, then stood and dipped forward into a bow. She shook herself, bit back a yawn and blinked sleepily down at her litter.

Sleeping like this, they looked like little angels. It allowed her to stop and feel her love for them, rather than simply answering to their countless demands of her. Towhee smiled down at them groggily, then couldn't help but risk ruining the moment by bending down to place a lingering kiss to each soft, warm forehead and breathing in their babyish scent.

Only, when she touched her muzzle to @Marten R's fuzzy head, it was neither soft nor warm. He was cool to the touch and when she drew in a breath, there was something inherently wrong with his smell. Towhee's nose skimmed to his midriff as she checked for breath, though he was deathly still. And when she went to nudge him, she found he was stiff with rigor mortis.