POV Swan
I padded towards my den, three small fish in my mouth. When I got there, I dropped them with a gasp. My mate, a Tortoiseshell tom named Kestrel, was growling at a silver fox. Our son lay on the ground, blood splattered on his handsome white and silver pelt. I couldn't even tell if he was alive, although the chances of that grew smaller by each passing moment. The only reason Kestrel hadn't fled was because our daughter, a dilute tortoiseshell named Feather, was still in the den. Though I could tell the battle was taking its toll on him. One eye was closed because blood was trickling into it from a scratch on his eyebrow. He had a nasty-looking bite on his tail, and bleeding scratches all over him. His left ear was pretty much missing as well. I snarled at the fox and leapt on its back, raking my claws across it, creating deep scratches, turning silver fur a sticky dark red. The fox yelled and turned around, snapping at me. At one point it caught my foreleg, and I could feel the bones snapping. I yowled in agony. When the stars of pain faded from my vision, I saw Feather just standing there, watching in horror. "Run, Feather! Run and never return!" I yowled. Feather nodded frantically, and backed away slowly, going backwards, then turned and dashed away. I bit the base of the fox's tail, intended more to cause pain than to do any damage. When the fox yelped and turned to snap at me again I leapt on its head. Wincing as my broken leg touched down. What I saw from standing there was a seen of horror. Our son was definitely dead, but so was Kestrel. His throat had been ripped out by the fox's claws. I leapt off its head, snarling and growling and hissing, my fur puffed out as far as I could get it to make me look over twice my size. I leapt up, and clawed our the fox's throat, unfortunately, it had the same idea. We both died at the same time.