The sand swallows. It is a snare with no escape once you are too deep. It had her legs from the very beginning. Like the vines of the plant that took Mange, it snaked around her, filling every crevice with sand, every empty space. Soon it had her body, too. She had fought tooth and nail to get free, had clawed and bit and lashed her tail.
So had Mange, she is sure. But it hadn't done a thing. It hadn't saved him.
Maybe fighting the inevitable only drags you deeper.
Now she is under. She sees no more, hears no more. Her muzzle is still free, and one claw. Nothing to hold onto. Nothing to save her. The sand will swallow the rest of her. It will swallow her, like the pod swallowed Mange. Like the plague swallowed her pups.
The sand swallows the paw. Only her snout remains now. It's almost over. There is no more to fight. It was futile, anyway.
It was all futile.
The world is fading as she sinks. How deep is this hole? How far does it go? Maybe she won't make it to the bottom. She won't make it anywhere. Not anymore.
It's almost over.
Almost over.
All the pain and the blood and the tears. The death. It had been tearing at her seams for so long. It was only inevitable. That this couldn't go on. The sand swallows everything.
A pain in her neck. A yank. The sand rolls over her body. So this is it. The final under.
But something is wrong. She's not under. She's over.
"Lapblood!"
All that has been swallowed by the sand begins to lift. The sounds, the smells.
"Wake up, Lapblood! You've got to get hold of the vine so we can pull you out!"
No. No.
"No…" Barely, her voice breaks free from the sand. Only momentarily. Not forever. Please, not forever. "Just let me go… let me go…"
She's in the sand already. She was sinking. She's been sinking this whole time.
"Let you go?" Ripred roars. "After I saved your sorry hide from those plants? Not likely! Now do as I say!"
But those plants had taken Mange. They had taken him right from her side. "No… no more…" She shakes her head.
Everything had been taken.
"No! Don't give up! Lapblood!"
If it could just be a little quiet. If the world would just let up for a bit. The sand has got a hold on her. It has closed her eyes and numbed her skin. There isn't much left to do.
Not much but be swallowed.
"What about Sixclaw? And Flyfur? What about them?"
Sixclaw.
Flyfur.
Where are they?
We have to think of Flyfur and Sixclaw. They still have a chance.
The sand crumbles from her eyes. "My pups!" Where are they? Between the trees? On the shore? In the sand?
"That's right! Your pups need you!" Ripred shouts. "Now pull yourself together and grab that vine!"
No, her pups are not in the sand. They are not in the sand because they have not been swallowed.
They still have a chance.
Lapblood's paw flies from the sand. A vine appears. Ripred and Hamnet have its other end. Her claw embeds in the green of its flesh. Maybe it has always been there. Maybe she just hasn't seen it.
The sand lets go. It is caked in her fur and claws at her skin. But it will not swallow her.
She cannot let it.