Hushed Willows coral-cold.

set June 2

there had been a commotion, somewhere in the willows. cam heard the screams, the growls, the noises foreign to him. he was eager to see for himself what was happening, but those tasked with watching after the children kept him away, kept him sequestered in the whelping den. but even watchers grew weary, and his opportunity came soon enough.

a little dark streak bolted through the trees, free at last. fortunately for young cam, his arrival came after the wolves had driven away the intruder, and the rush of impending destruction had settled into something far weightier. the heavy finality of the situation did not escape his notice, and yet cam only had eyes for his mother, who seemed to be taking a nap nearby.

mummy! he called out, happy to see her after what seemed like an eternity. there was something strange and sticky coating her neck; he began to lap at it and grimaced, making a bleh noise at the taste. quickly giving that up, he nestled against her, tucked into the curve of her throat, the bulk of her chest.

she was quite still—he figured she must be in a very deep sleep. she had seemed sleepy lately; had he and ziggy been too noisy last night when they had wrestled? sorry, mummy, he murmured, feeling bad. he yawned, himself, and stretched a little. he was tired, too.

she was quite cold, too. cold, and the air around him smelled strange. . .smelled like the taste of whatever had soiled her coat. disturbed, he shifted slightly, trying to find a better position. she remained stiff against him, not instinctively moving to draw him closer.

she must be very sleepy. cam stopped moving, not wanting to wake her up. the sound of whimpers nearby drew his attention, and he made a shushing noise toward it, tiny face cross.

mummy's sleeping, he hissed, frowning.

reif had, presumably, stolen the adults attention with his shrieking, or at least that's what remus is going with, for atwood had yet to be moved from the scene. he does not approach the rapidly cooling body of his fallen mother, but stands silent guard as the other adults realize what's happened and come together to mourn. he would not have moved at all for a good long time, but his attention is caught by a small dark form barrelling towards his aunt's corpse.

curiously he draws closer. the other boy doesn't seem to realize what's happened, though to be fair, neither entirely does atwood. only he knows, somehow, that sleeping isn't right. it seems safer to approach lily than ariel (too strange, too startling), so he does, until he is right beside the other boy. "not," he says, and frowns. what is the meaning of their unnatural stillness? something he is instictively sensitive to, but unable to cognizantly name. so instead he just repeats, "not."

one of the smaller boys came, then, looking upset with a frown. cam wasn't sure why. all he knew was that when the 'not' came and was reiterated, he grew quite upset, too. he scowled at the brown-pelted pup, tail beating hard and fast against the ground. great. . .now he was going to wake mummy up. stupid.

is sleeping! cam insisted in a loud whisper, ears flattening against his skull. his eyes flashed to lily's still form, the strange wetness of the fur at her throat. were he lighter-coated, he would have come away and noticed the crimson hue. as it was, it only looked and felt hot—but cooling—and sticky. he wasn't sure what to make of it.

he stared back at atwood after a moment's contemplation, shaking his head. she's sleepy, he continued, though less vehemently than before. the same sort of confusion was beginning to settle in his bones. something terrifying, yawning like the dark mouth of a cave.

the other boy scolds him, and momentarily atwood is silent, his little ears laying flat. he doesn't know how to argue the point, so he abandons it, instead examining lily's body closer. he'd seen that vibrant red slash but, strangely, she is not shocking-red. her fur is too dark, though he doesn't know that. "sleepy," he repeats, mostly to appease cam as he scoots closer, reaching out to gingerly nose where the red should be. 

unlike cam, atwood is mostly beigey, and when he pulls back, the sticky stuff leaves dirty redbrown smears across his face and feet. his face crinkles unhappily -- it smells so, so strong -- does his mother have this stuff too? "mine not sleeping,"  he murmurs, withdrawing to steal a look at ariel's unnatural form, blocked by the adults. looking back at cam, he says, "not... not gon' wake up."

cam gaped at atwood when he pulled away, staring at the smears on his face. his nose crinkled in disgust and horror. what is that? he whispered, as if atwood was at all aware. his mouth trembled; he was frightened in earnest now, wondering just what was off about this entire situation. all he wanted to do was fall asleep, now, and dream it all away.

yes he will, cam responded, glancing at ariel. he moved forward, faster, and began to nudge the still, dark form, more roughly by increments. right? right? wake up!

panting, he left that alone and moved back to mummy, pushing her in much the same way. mummy, wake up, wake up! he began to growl and glared at atwood, his heart thundering in his chest. not true! gonna wake up! everyone wakes up!

right?! right?!

atwood feels sickly satisfied for getting the other boy's attention, even if he still tries to argue. but when cam begins to move towards ariel, disgust and horror rises in him, clenching his stomach. "stop!" he cries, trying to grab the other boy by the scruff, to pull him away. lily is safe to look at -- ariel is not, not for long, with his belly opened up, something atwood doesn't want to look at. he doesn't look at him even when cam does pull away and return to lily, his own heart pounding as the other boy rounds on him with a growl.

"not anym're," he murmurs, watching cam's face sadly.

he barely felt atwood's teeth on his scruff, nor heard his cry, occupied as he was with getting to the bottom of this. cam's eyes were filled with tears and fire as he glares at the other boy while hunkered next to lily's cooling form. how d'you know? he spat, teeth bared. you don't! you don't know!

but why wasn't she waking up? all it took to wake cam up was a soft word in his ear, a gentle nudge. he'd pushed and poked and prodded and still! she remained so still!

muuummm-mmmyyyy! he whined shrilly, pressing his nose into her ear. nothing.

WAKE UP! he shouted, barrelling into the curve of her belly. nothing.

MUMMY WAKE UP— he begged, nipping at her ankles. nothing.

with a despondent, desolate sob, cam moved away from her, then shoved past atwood to run into the trees, looking for his father, for olive or seebee, for his siblings. surely atwood must be lying or mistaken; surely this couldn't be. he'd get to the bottom of this.

but why didn't she wake up?!

wrapping this<3

cam's continued refusal of atwood's understanding doesn't frustrate him. it does, however, make him ache, because he wishes he were wrong, though he doesn't really understand that. at last the boy makes a break for it, shoving him over in the process -- he lets himself stumble, watching the other boy flee without remark. his own sadness catches up to him then and with a cry he flings himself back toward the adults, looking for his remaining mamas for comfort that will likely not come, at least not for now.