… tw: character death .. > with artwork by @sillystray- … Splendorstake felt her limbs weaken as she watched her kits scurry towards the direction of home. A small, fond smile on their face as she continued to walk, forcing the strength. Oh, her beloved Enchantedmask. Their pelt, their soft fur… watching the kits scramble for their new home only reminded Len of what awaited them. The grasshopper on her shoulder chirped a sweet, sentimental chime. She would present them to her brothers, her sisters, proudly. Her nephew. Oh, her bold little nephew. Storm brought her so much pride… after their talk, she had a reason to continue. A purpose to thrive. For the sake of them both. The only sense of realism in this cruel world. “Go now, children.” She mews to them. “Kiteinferno shall show you to the nursery, you are all so… so ailed with exhaustion—“ her voice was cut off with a loud, painful cough. This pathetic state… she hated it. Their illness had not faded. Not even with the help of the medics. That was fine. She would make it. Enchantedmask’s embrace was like a reward. She would claim it once she reached the border. To see that gorgeous face, to hear faer voice… they didn’t need anything more now. Maybe it was the satisfaction with her life that made her forget. The argument with Sorastar. The attempt to turn the Clan against him and his deputy. They had to admit, the attempt had been there. The beast. She still remembered Kole. Stars, she’d never forget them. The dark gray pelt… the layers of fur and flesh beneath the inside of a gaping wound she left. Was this a curse? The kits were out of sight, guided to urchinclan, but their gaze was too weak to see them. “No… no. I will make it back soon. Let me see my mate, please.” She begged to the sky, starting to walk. “Let me see her smile.” … The storm came unexpectedly. Splendorstake could not move. She wanted to see her nymphs. They wanted to say goodbye. Her lungs felt like they were going to collapse. A storm had taken her mother. Would it take her too? “Mama…” she shakily whimpered, her muscles aching under her weight. Their claw reached out, pawing the MossClan border with teary eyes. “Please… not yet…!” No. Splendorstake wouldn’t go like this. Dor had turned with as much strength as she could muster, thunder roaring the moment her paws found their footing. She kept walking. Coughing harshly, her own blood against her chimera pelt, Len fixed herself to return. But then she stopped. Enchantedmask. She could still hear her. They turned to look over at the border, the agony of her illness only getting worse the longer she stood. Splendorstake felt it before she saw it. The last thing she saw was a bright light. The last thing she heard were tears… Enchantedmask’s tears. Then the world went silent.
