The snow covered the landscape carpeting it in a blanket of white. The air was crisp and smelled faintly of burning wood. To the west lay a copse of trees, leafless in the mid-winter season. Two sets of pawprints led towards the copse, one set looked as if the cat who had made them was dragging their feet whilst the other set supported them.
Suddenly, a great sound of flapping wings and squawking of birds sounded and a flock of jackdaws swarmed out of a nearby tree in the copse. Spooked by some unknown movement below
A panicked queen lay panting in some bloodstained snow, two newborn kits, who must have been born only a few moments ago for they still hadn't dried off and opened their eyes, lay squirming under her. A tom-cat -presumably her mate- stood bristling a few tail-lengths away, fluffed up to look twice his size and arched in a defensive position, the tom hissed at a drooling fox.
The fox's ribs were showing and tufts of fur were missing, it growled low and quietly, crouched close to the ground, "Ivy. Run!", the tom-cat hissed looking back for a split second, unfortunately this was his mistake. During that brief moment of hesitation, the fox lunged. There was a sickening crunch and blood sprayed, decorating the snow like spots of crimson paint. The fox shook the doomed cat, drool mixing with the tom-cats pale fur.
For a second the smoky-red canine stopped shaking the now limp cat, and slowly, jerkily the cat managed to lift its head, "Ivy..," it croaked, before it spasmed and coughed blood. It fell limp again and then, head down and eyes closed, "Don't go back to the housefolk," another spasm. Forcing his eyes open, he continued to rasp, "They won't help you now… The clans.., I hear they have healers, they can… help." with that his eyes went dull and their lids drooped.
A thud sounded, and the tom landed ungracefully on the now-impure snow, skidding for a few mouse lengths. The fox now advanced on its next victim. Weak from kitting, the queen- Ivy- bristled with wide eyes, dilated pupils and breath coming in short, rasping pants. She fumbled for her two kits, grabbing both of their scruffs (not an easy task) in her jaws, and ran. Hissing in frustration when she couldn't quite reach a suitable speed due to her exhaustion and the two kits on her mouth, Ivy streaked (or rather limped) through the trees. With two squirming kits hanging from her jaws, it was hard enough to see where she was going, but when one kit tried to scramble up onto her muzzle, Ivy stumbled, dropping both kittens in the process. Her side hit the cold ground and she whipped around to see the fox advancing towards a kit, she scrambled to her paws but her kit had already been tossed in the air, the fox caught it with a crunch and it exploded with blood, and it slid down the monster's throat.
The she-cat wailed, the sound carried all the emotions that she felt, her mate had died, her kit had been swallowed whole and now Ivy and her last kit were going to die without even completing her mate's final request. Ivy continued wailing for what felt like moons. The fox stalked towards her, licking its bloodstained lips, as if savouring the taste that was alive just moments ago.
Ivy caved in. Curled around her remaining kit, she closed her eyes and let the tears stream down her cheek fur. She faintly heard the shriek of a cat and the fox snarl and skitter away. She felt herself being rolled off of her kit, and the cat let out startled gasp, but her body was already limp.
She no longer felt any pressure, and blinking through tears she saw her mate and kit ahead, waiting for her, she raced towards them knowing everything would finally be okay. Pressing her muzzle into her mate's fur, her heart felt light again, I thought I would never see you again.