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

Fading, as agreed upon in the other thread. :')

She had tried framing it as if she was a spirit, then a fairy, and it seemed Weejay either couldn't understand or accept either, which was of course understandable. She was too young to comprehend the permanence of death, much too young to be losing her mother. Wildfire found herself silent at the impasse, wishing she had better answers, more sufficient explanations, for her little girl. It was all so unfair.

"C'mere, Weejay," she asked quietly, voice barely more than a whisper. She invited the babe into the cradle of her arms, holding her close and kissing the top of her head as she began another story, a happy tale that would hopefully lift the pup's spirits. There was nothing else Wildfire could do for her child except offer comfort in the present and, hopefully, in the future, when a woman grown looked back on this fond final memory of her fiery dam.