Description
Duskmouse's limp body lay still and cold in the middle of camp. Her tender brown fur was still damp from her time underwater in the work-monster's muddy ditch, and Snailpaw snuggled closer to her flank, ignoring the pain from his cobweb-covered wounded shoulder. All around him, the scents of murmurs of his Clanmates stirred the air.
"Poor little mite..."
"Who would've known?"
"What a tragedy..."
Even Woollypaw and Pouncepaw seemed respectful; they were holding their tongues instead of jeering. Of course, then Snailpaw thought, this was the death of the deputy, not the death of some filthy rogue that had tried to invade on the Clan's territory. They knew better than to start crowing over Snailpaw's mistake.
Snailpaw pressed even harder into her flank. "Goodbye, Duskmouse," her whispered, burying his muzzle into her ribs. "Goodbye, mother. I'm sorry you had to die saving a dumb apprentice from one of his own mousebrained mistakes." A sob rising in his throat, he nuzzled her and closed his eyes, beginning to lick her gently. "I'm sorry that you were ashamed of me being your son, that you had to give me away, and that I killed you."
Duskmouse's death.