1st of Summer, 518
The flare of the Watchtowers in Summer brought of feeling of giddy excitement to Dusti. A rare occurrence lately but with her birthday drawing near she could not help but already begin the count down to the seventy-fifth, the day of celebration looming so close. The child in her delighted in the prospects of gifts and the prospect of running the family for a whole day but also shied away from the legitimacy of adulthood that came with Summer. A legitimacy that stared her in the face as she took in her empty apartment. Much smaller than her previous or so it looked. There was no true size difference but it lacked the touch of other people, their scents, the warmth that mingled with it to bring a sense of calm to the strong need for connection. Her father had helped her furnish it, sparse as it was, but it was not her home. Her home was a few apartments down, easily reached and filled with others she could feel and see and go to at that very moment.
She took hardly anytime to dress, shoving her arms through her coat to cover her nakedness from delicate human eyes as she scurried down the hall and paused at the door. It was too early to demand birthday celebrations as she had done the year prior but it wasn’t too early to celebrate the changing of the seasons. Dusti thought it a valid enough excuse to pester her parents on a few days after her forced move. They had told her to give it time and four days was more than enough time to know she hated it. Enough to prompt her to peek around to make sure none seen her open the never locked door and slip in, the scent of home and rightness hitting her like a sucker punch to the gut. There was no doubt her birthday celebration would be here rather than the cold stillness of her new apartment.
Yet it was strangely silent and empty looking, even with the familiarity. Her father no where she could see and her mother seemingly absent until she crept closer to the bed and the ever loved tail peeked out from the mess of stained bedding.
“Mama…mama are you up?” The Kelvic crept towards the bed quietly, spotting the small brown mouse asleep as she usually was, tucked in a nest of pillow stuffing and sheets. It was a strange habit her mother had but what caught was looking at the fading fur was enough to still her breath in her throat but not enough to stop her stripping off her clothes and letting the shift fall over her like rain. Without a word Dusti jumped onto the bed and curled around the small nest, the rapid flutter of her mothers heart reaching her ears soothingly.
When her eyes had drifted shut, the Kelvic couldn’t have said but she knew precisely when her ears twitched, waking her from the deep sleep with a jolt. The whine in her throat rumbled out pathetically as she cocked her head, disbelief setting in quickly. Surely her ears were hearing wrong. But they weren’t and that was the problem for there was no steady beat alongside her own no matter how much she strained to hear it.
Dead.
It was all her mind would supply. The thought as final as the click of the door opening and closing, the well-known scent of her father seeping through the sudden haze of confusion. A laugh burbled at a high pitch when she nosed the body as gently as she dared but there was no movement from it. Already it was stiff, the last remnants of warmth having been gone for just long enough for it to freeze in a final sleep. A warm hand on her hind quarters giving both comfort and a sense of foreboding when she heard her father sigh.
“Dusti—“ The word prompted a low growl of denial, her father removing his hand to avoid the snip of her teeth. But he only sighed, used to such behavior and he curled around Dusti slowly, adding his weight to the bed, “She’s gone. Erin—Erin felt it and I flew home. Dusti—“
The laughter split through his words and the growl, loud, frantic, her feet twitching even as her father curled around her tighter, offering support even as she fought him. “No, stay.”
Though she bared her teeth, the laughter building like a crescendo between growls until it was not enough to contain the thickness in her throat, the scream ripping through until her voice broke. Though she could feel his tears in the fur on her neck he stroked her fur softly until two more recognized scents bleed through the door, the hurried knocks telling her who it was. Though she longed to flee the comfort of the room wouldn’t let her even as the small body in the room demanded it, taking pitiful comfort when two more bodies joined the grieving heap on the bed.
