By the Time We Get Through

Author's Note
Hi everyone, it's Icestorm. Well, today (August 12th, 2011) my bird passed away. This story is about her. R.I.P Delilah. You're always in our hearts and never will part from our memories. <3

By The Time We Get Through

 * I walk out of camp, my paws pattering overhead on the ground. The wind soars next to me and brushes my fur. I sigh, tensing my muscles.
 * I scan the ground. I walk further, and I am able to spot a bundle of ginger fur hunched up. Whiskers twitched and that indicated the sign of life.
 * "A kit..." I exclaim, taking it by the scruff. It was lying splayed on the floor, its ginger fur coated with blood. I hurry back to camp and into my den, tending to it with gentleness.
 * I put a pulp of herbs on her pelt. Her paw looked hurt, and she didn't have all her fur. I got a mouse from the fresh-kill pile and ripped a couple pieces from it, gently opening her mouth and pushing some food down.
 * I glance down at the kit. "I'm going to have to name you," I say, thinking hard. Delilah. The name pops into my head. My mother's name.
 * "Delilah," I deem, putting my paw over her shoulder fur. Delilah opens her green eyes and turns her head to look at me. I gave her some water.


 * The next day, I play with her. I wrestle gently with her and she pushes me of. Her green eyes gleam, but sadly I could tell she wasn't strong. I sigh. My friend, Duckfur, convinced me she wouldn't live, and I had to let her go when she was larger, because she wasn't a warrior. "She will survive!" I had snapped at her.
 * I sigh, picking her up and feeding her. I take her outside and play with her, feeding her a couple times everyday. But...it wasn't until the third day that I was shocked.
 * She was dead. Her body was cold. I stare, wide in shock at her. A waterfall of tears pours down my cheek and I suddenly find it hard to breath. "Delilah...no..." I whisper.
 * I dug a hole for her and dropped her in. I stared down. "I'll always remember you, Delilah..."