Withered Roses

Rosethorn was trying to be happy. She really was. Even if she couldn't bring herself to leave camp, not yet, at least, she didn't want to sit around and sulk.

She had started her own collection of pebbles and different shiny things that she found around camp, so she spent a decent amount of time maintaining that. And of course, she still spent time with Musty. Even if she never really felt up to tormenting, it was still fun to try to make the pair laugh. She also enjoyed playing with the kits, Condorkit especially. He seemed to always be up for anything. And Loudkit was always ready for a good time too. They were definitely taking more after their mother in personality, that was for sure.

She wanted to help Rookfire in the medicine den, but Basilkit was often in there. And she didn't want to crowd too much. Then it became stuffy and hard to breathe.

Lately it seemed harder to breathe anyway.

The more time she spent in camp, the harder it became to get air in her lungs, her chest seeming to constrict. She was growing weaker with the lack of exercise, and it was starting to become unbearable.

And then it was unbearable. It was like her lungs were on fire, but she couldn't make it stop. Her gasping breaths rattled her chest, but it was like they were doing no good. It was like she was choking on air.

Dark spots clouded her vision, and she found herself collapsing in the clearing. It was a few heart wrenching moments before the pain stopped. But Rosethorn did not breathe again.