It was leaf-fall when the trees were young and Poolkit was small and eager to play, chasing after her brother and tripping over everything in sight. She'd always been the clumsy one. Her mother often joked (at least, she was sure it was a joke) that she should have named her Fallenkit, for how often she did just that, always falling down, her downfall. Your clumsiness, Poolkit. Your clumsiness will be your downfall. Poolkit always laughed it off. It was her reaction to pretty much anything- to shake her head and chuckle under her breath. Her mother told her to take her seriously for once and be careful, stop running, no don't go into the elder's den, how many times have I told you they don't like small kits like you, they don't like the uncontrollable ones. Laugh it off, Poolkit. That's right. Just laugh it off.
It was leaf-fall when the trees were tall and Poolkit was Poolpaw now. She was puffing her chest with pride and her mother told her to humble herself, because being an apprentice wasn't that important, and in the grand scheme of things was only another stepping stone to her inevitable success. Maybe. Success for her brother. Poolpaw suspected that her mother's mouth always itched to say downfall, downfall, downfall, for her clumsy and uncaring ways. Maybe she wanted to watch her fall. No, Poolkit didn't care much for her mother. She didn't care much about most things.
It was leaf-fall and all the old trees were dead and Poolfeather suspected that she'd killed them all, some way, some how. It was the only explanation for it because she remembered her kithood like it was yesterday, and all the trees were alive and well then, only now she'd gone and grown up and killed them all. An accident. Everything she did was an accident. Her mother's words echoed in her head, bitter and spiteful. She was pretty sure she was the accident. Her mother was her downfall, or maybe her brother, or maybe all the other warriors that stood by and watched her spiral and fill with bitterness and the rotting corpse of her former self, or maybe she was just stuffed full of the decaying leaves from the trees she had killed and that's why she couldn't think straight and kept falling and slipping and falling down, down down.
It was leaf-fall and Poolfeather was an elder who lived an unfulfilling life filled with overbearing authority figures and annoying kits. She was her mother. She was fairly sure she had become her mother, because she was miserable, and she distinctly remembered her mother being miserable. She wasn't sure why, because her memory was starting to go. She was dependent and reliant and terrible.
She was her own downfall.