Birdthroat's Death
While wandering the vast and wide forest that surrounded a quiet and content lake, Birdthroat maneuvered within the thicket of foliage in order to explore more of this new location. Her companions were not too far off, but far enough that it would surely be quite the endearing walk back. A longing pause to stare out at the effervescent lake that bridled light and glimmer, Birdthroat admires the water and flowing disturbances, no matter how minuscule. It was such a gentle day, but the silence that reigned in the air was uncomfortable. There were no sounds from the lingering creatures in the forest, nor the buzzing of the bees. The water at the lake did not make any sound, and the only harmony above the silence was the slow breathing of Birdthroat, and a staggering breath behind her. A slow glance back, and Birdthroat could feel her breath hitch right in her lungs, never fully escaping her. There was a long, withdrawn pause that had Birdthroat stifling in her thoughts, muddled between fight or flight and an instinctual need to call for help. A mutt, with matted fur and pale teeth stood just a distance away, unfurling its fangs from behind charred lips and rotten gums. That unearthly growl caused Birdthroat to hesitate, knowing well that if she took even one minor step, she’d be in imminent danger without a proper plan.
“No.”
Birdthroat mutters from under her breath, the last few seconds fleeting as she dives toward the lake in a sprint, before her paws hitting the water and the close proximity of a fiendish mutt makes her feel numb in her escape. The warmth that surrounded her neck, and the pain that followed suit, allowed her body to drop in submission for the first time. __ __ __ __
“Not yet.”
The deathly rasp of an inaudible voice speaks a little bit above a whisper. The choked whine of withdrawn pain could be heard in Birdthroat’s tone, feeling the energy and last ounce of adrenaline drain from her body. Her eyes remained hazed over, looking within her vicinity to see if someone, anyone, would be coming to her rescue, or at least to see her go. There was a silent gasp that was her undoing, staring half-lidded into the murky depths of the lake. It looked empty, still undisturbed despite her half-vacant presence. The pool of blood that dripped harmoniously into the gravel seeped into the edge of the lake, turning the shore-line water into a mix of scarlet hues that stretched like wildfire deeper into the lake’s depths. Nothing could be more painful than the gouging laceration on her throat and amidst her entire body, but even then, the deep rooted pain seemed to dwindle as the life left within her stifled and caved. A blackness overwhelms her, a flash of light reminding her of the glint of pearled fangs that met her neck not too long ago. The warmth of her blood that spilled and pooled around her was the only thing left to comfort her, and give an ounce of warmth to her almost lifeless body. It was cold. Why did it feel so lonely like this? She was by the lake, flashing back to a vicious battle between her, and a gnarled mutt that wandered the forest just moments ago. The water at the shore of the lake kept her both adrift and awake, a solemn reminder of her failed escape toward the water before meeting an untimely demise.
“They’ll be here soon, just a little bit longer.”
Perhaps it was the fear of dying alone, or the lingering motivation from battle that kept Birdthroat surfaced in reality, but it surely wouldn’t last long. The stubbornness to remain awake continued to resurface despite the slowly dwindling life left in her battleborn body, but she repented. It wasn’t until she saw the silhouette of a familiar face that a smile fixed itself upon her worn facade, at peace with the fact she wasn’t alone. A deep pain in her heart struck her with her final breath, causing her body to tremble and tremor in fear. It didn’t hurt to die, but the slowly fading memories and happiness drifted from her with every fighting second. It was terrifying, really, to no longer feel happiness, nor pain. To slowly slip from reality while her memories and comfort masqueraded away into the pit of darkness. If this is what it felt like to die, Birdthroat would’ve been more cautious to avoid it from the beginning. The approaching steps faded in her ears, the sound dwindling down to nothing but a static silence, and the final exhale signifying her passing. Birdthroat felt nothing really, but at least she knew in her final moments, she really didn’t end up alone.
__ __ __ __
An emptiness fills the atmosphere, almost like a deep melancholy that Plague could not develop or process. After stepping far too close to Birdthroat’s tattered and lifeless corpse, he remains silent and unsteady. A broken sigh falters from his mouth, choking on reality and misfortune as he stares nearly blankly at the fallen she-cat. Reeling back a silent and frustrated remorse, Plague sits alongside Birdthroat’s cold husk until the atmosphere is disturbed by an approaching duo. Sleekfish was the first to approach, caught slightly off guard by the ominous tension fueled within the air. It was unsteady and unbalanced, and only took him moments to realize what the silence was for. For a few moments, everything was still and captivated by tension, and soon, that tension would be broken with a hollering sob, with Sleekfish squandering over his dead mother in agony. He cries, compromising himself to be stained red with blood while he lay draped over her, crying fervently into her wounds in an attempt to stop the scarlet pool from draining out. The tears that streamed down his sunken face could not be withheld, his muscles tensed and relaxed with every moment of frustration and pain that built within him. The reality at hand was coarse and rugged, feeling empty and lonely with no amount of warmth to suffice.
“She’s just sleeping, right?”
Sleekfish stutters, his tone filled with regress and turmoil. His body now lay comforted by the warmth of his mother’s blood that slowly dried and caked into the layers of grass and soil, feeling abhorrent and mortified. It was warm and comforting, like Birdthroat’s embrace when he was just a kit. He had whispered his love for her in her ear, knowing it wasn’t heard but still desperately hoping that she could hear it from beyond. He continues to sob, angered by the silence from both Plague, and Timbersong, who slowly approached with an empty and calm facade. As the tension continues to build and the silence becomes deafening, Plague turns his attention to Sleek, baring an impartial grimace as a warning for his behavior and dramatic display.
“Let your damn mother rest in peace, will you?”
A quick snap in Plague’s tone, and Sleek would cease his overwhelmed sobs before choking on his words, his tone dripping with a malicious venom. Sleekfish takes his stand, shoving Plague aside in the process. A gutteral hiss sounds off from both cats, the fur that lined their skin prickling upwards with drawn claws. Timber sat in silence, staring longingly down at her companion with hazy eyes and tender pain. Plague and Sleekfish remained unmoving, although interlocked in a hostile stance that could break at any moment into an engaging yet threatening battle. The air was all but quiet aside from the hasty and contentious environment.
“What would you know about letting her rest in peace? Or did you watch her as she died?”
The snap of interlocked eyes brought them closer, only slightly, sending tremors of frustration down Timbersong’s spine as she sat protectively over Birdthroat’s corpse, attentive to both the brisk verbal assault, and the pool of blood at her feet.
“How dare you accuse me of such a thing, you bastard of a child.”
The cats reared closer to one another, snapping their blunt teeth in each other’s faces as a means of a bitter yet underwhelming brawl. Their postures attuned and raised, both Plague and Sleek remained attentive and muttering profanities against the harsh, belligerent air. While muttering profanities and arguments under their breath, cursing each other into the wind without a burden or care of the current situation, Timbersong eventually snaps them from their loss of focus.
__ __ __ __
“Shut it.”
The spiteful resonance from Timbersong piqued both Plague and Sleek’s attention, forcing their spittle of an argument to die like a passing flame, turning their attention to the modest-sized she-cat sat stoically over the deceased remains of their companion. At first, they’re confused, but attentive, heavy breaths of adrenaline cut short by her next words.
“If you brats so much as lay a claw on one another during this time, a time of grieving and remorse,” Timber pauses, aggression full force and fervent while being poured out. There was no need to beat around the bush. She choked on her words reluctantly, tears beginning to dribble and slip past her cheeks; shuddering in pure overwhelming distress and mourning.
“I will personally tear both of your throats out slowly and lay you next to her so you can feel what it’s like instead of your useless, licentious bickering.”
As Timber continues to cry, leaving her tears to stain the area with her pain and longing, Sleekfish and Plague were slow and gradual to approach, before taking their seats right beside her, gathering one another in to huddle close. Before any of them could realize, the environment surrounding them was full of the buzzing of bees and chirping of birds, making the forest lively again. Their cries and sobs were drowned out by the sound of life, holding and clinging to Birdthroat’s remains to have one last longing goodbye.
“You were home.”
The trio speaks in unison behind choked sobs and sniffles, still holding on while reality seeped in. She truly was home.