Breezepaw's Death

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

That was the constant sound Breezepaw now heard. The drips of muddy water, mixed with steam from the monsters, were foul. But they were the only thing Breezepaw could easily reach to drink. Twisting his head slightly, he managed to lick a bit more from the slowly growing puddle. He sighed at the quality of the water- dirty, full of monster grit.

He felt cold and warm. Like his body had been turned to ice, then dropped in lava. He whimpered, but he knew no one was there. No one is here... no one has ever been here... I'm alone.

It had been some time since he'd been hit by the monster. What had happened? The memory was too fuzzy. It was clouded. But more than that, it was laced with anger. He didn't want to know what'd happen. As soon as Breezepaw thought about the memory, streaks of pain laced through his head. Flashes of vision... the monster swerving off of the Thunderpath. Not being fast enough. The crash. The twoleg, getting out of the monster, tossing his body into a ditch. Being alone.