Winter wasn't a kind season. It froze the earth, coated everything in its path with cold whiteness, and sought to kill off anything and everything it saw as too weak. It was a time of cold, illness, and starvation. Who could blame the prey for burrowing far below the surface of the Earth, searching for warmth, or the bears for hibernating the dreadful season away? Understandably, it was the worst season to be caring for anyone but yourself. Dahlia knew this well enough.

She didn't know what she was thinking when she ran away from her housefolk, hoping to avoid being taken to the cutter. It was a foolish decision. If she had stayed, she'd be in her warm nest right now. If she had stayed, her belly would feel so hollow and aching. If she had stayed, she would have been cut, unable to ever have kits. Yes, she should have remained at home.

Yet here she was, trudging through the deep snow that rose to her knees. Dahlia couldn't even feel her calves anymore, as they were completely bare. She knew how she looked now, having glanced at her reflection in a window a few days prior. Compared to her once beautiful, glowing self, she looked absolutely horrendous. Her hair and fur were tangled, her skin a sickly pale color, and her eyes had dark circles beneath them. She had always prided herself on her beauty, but even that was gone now.

"Mother, can we stop and rest?"

Dahlia tensed, pausing and slowly turning to look down at the source of the words. A small boy met her eyes. He was pitiful, being just as sick-looking and hungry as she was, if not worse. Unfortunately for him, she had no pity left. His two siblings were just as bad. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Dahlia realized that she was supposed to be looking at four kits, not three. Her youngest boy must have collapsed somewhere between the last No-tail Place and here.

Nothing I can do about it now, she supposed.

"No, we have to keep walking," Dahlia replied, turning back around and continuing to walk. At this point, she no longer cared about anything but her own survival. That's how things were meant to be, she had reasoned. She'd never even wanted kits tugging at her tail and asking idiotic questions like "where are we going" and "can I sleep next to you".

She glanced back at her kits. Two of them seemed better off than their brother. They'd be able to hunt soon, which she intended to teach them. If they were going to survive, then they all had to be useful. But Perch…Perch was too weak. He would need to get stronger first, something that Dahlia could not afford to waste time on. That meant one thing.

Making up her mind, she spotted a nearby fallen log and hurried towards it, her kits following at a desperate pace. Did they think that she was leaving them? No, she had tried that once, but had been driven back by her ridiculous instincts. Once they caught up, she put on a fake smile and turned to them.

"Perch," she said, catching her son's attention, "I want you to sit on this log."

"W-why?" he asked with a shiver affecting his voice. His legs were shaking violently from the cold, and his jaw was chattering.

"It's a game, silly kit," Dahlia told him, "Playing will help all of you warm up."

"Really?" Mist said with wide eyes, her ears perking up at the prospect of warmth.

"Really," their mother said, "Here's how we play: Perch sits on this log while the three of us walk away. Now we have to get really far from him, because then we're going to race back. Whoever high-fives him first wins."

"But why do I have to sit on the log?" Perch questioned.

"We're taking turns," Dahlia reasoned, "Youngest to oldest. Lichen will be after you, then Mist, and then me."

Perch tilted his head before smiling brightly in spite of his current state, "Okay, Mama!"

Smiling back at him, Dahlia picked her son up under his armpits and set him on the log. She patted his head and said, "Now you stay put, okay? There are lots of other fallen logs, and we have to make sure that we get to the right one. You'll listen to Mama, right?"

"Of course, Mama! I love you, so I'll stay!" Perch replied, giving his mother's hand a nuzzle.

Dahlia, satisfied, began to lead Mist and Lichen away. The two seemed to be in higher spirits for now, but she didn't know how they'd react when they realized that they weren't playing a game; that they weren't coming back.

It's for the best, Dahlia reasoned, He has to die so that we can live.

She refused the instincts clawing at her belly, demanding that she turn and take him with them. They were wrong. Perch would die either way, so it didn't really matter. She didn't look back.


Perch was a good kit. That's what he wanted his mother to know. When she and his littermates came back, he'd prove how good he was. Prove that he had listened well and stayed put. Yes, Mama would be proud of him. She might even tell him that he was good, and perhaps even hug him.

He relished the thought, imagining the warmth of a hug from his mother. He'd been hugged by his siblings before, but never his mother. He could imagine the love that would come with it as he pressed his face into her bosom like he'd done when he still needed milk. He'd hug her right back, and tell her that he loved her over-and-over. She was his mother, after all, and he'd always love her.

So, with that in mind, he waited. He waited, and waited, and waited…and waited.

It was getting dark. Surely they'd gone far enough? Maybe Lichen tripped or Mist had one of her coughing fits. Maybe his mother was testing him to see how long he'd stay on the log. Perch straightened, determined to show her just how good of a son he was.

So he waited some more. He waited, and waited, and waited…and waited.

The moon was out, peering though the bare branched of the trees, as if wondering why Perch was all alone. He shivered violently, rubbing his hands up and down his arms as his tail curled around his waist. It had gotten much, much colder. Where were Lichen and Mist? Where was Mama?

Maybe they got separated and lost or something. They'd try to re-trace their steps, and eventually come back to him. He had to stay on the log if he was going to help them all get back together. Perch was a good kit, a good son, and a good brother.

So he'd wait until dawn if he had to. He waited, and waited, and waited…and waited.

Somewhere behind him, he heard a twig snap. Perch had tears running down his face. He wanted his mother. Where was she? Why wasn't she coming back? Had she forgotten him? Was she going to leave him there because she forgot him?

"Mama! M-Mama, come ba-ack! P-please, Mama, I'm sc-ared! Come back! C-come back!" he sobbed. His tears were freezing on his face, poking painfully at his cheeks.

Another twig snapped, and he felt the heat of breath on his neck.

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A/N: I just wanted to give you all feelings. Hope you enjoyed.

Later, my lovelies~!

- Tina