Face of an Angel
The ground seemed to swim before her eyes, and she stumbled across the grass, a steady stream of blood trickled from a jagged and deep cut on her chest. Her movements were uncoordinated and clumsy, and she made her way towards the one she fought to protect for so long. The one she knew she was going to die for. The one who's life was so special and precious.
The kit stared up at his mother with yellow eyes, his fur stained with blood, none from himself. The she cat halted in front of him, her own green eyes clouding over. "Mummy?" His voice was so innocent for a kit that could kill many.
"Oh, my precious baby," she murmured, her voice strained. "Mummy is so proud of you." She eased herself down on her stomach, and then fell on her side. A huge gash ran from her neck to her leg, and her throat bore many claw marks. Who would help the mother of a killer? Not that there was anyone left.
"Let me help you mummy," he said as he sat down next to her. Her eyes began to close, and for a moment, she saw him as the muscular tom he really was, not the kit her mind chose to see. His own sides were scarred, and one ear was torn, all from previous battles.
"There is no help left for me," she whispered, coughing up gobs of blood. "Leave me, my angel. I will see you again someday." Her breathing became labored, and she struggled just to inhale.
"So we shall," the tom answered, and his eyes showed emotion for the first time in many moons. "I love you mummy." As he drew his claw across her throat to quicken her death, all she saw was the face of an angel.