In the morning Larkwing wakes curled around her daughters, keeping them warm and safe and nestled tightly against her. They were getting to the point where it was harder to keep them all in one place, all together, but they were somehow managing all the same. The queen had been silently worried about Houndkit's lack of mumbling last night before they drifted off, but she'd ultimately thought it nothing, now, as she looks down at her three daughters with a sleepy yawn, her soft smile begins to fade.

Houndkit is still. She does not respond to Fernkit's provocations.

Her small body does not rise and fall like Fern's. Her fur is cold where she had not been in contact with her mother or sister. The sinking pit in the queen's gut is enough to tell her she knows exactly what that means. She's been around death enough to recognize the signs. But... it's not the same when it's someone you love. It's not the same when it's your child.

"Houndkit?" She whispers, denial urging her to nudge the still and stiff body of her baby, to try and will the life back into her bones. "Hound, baby, come- come on, please." It's a plea, a prayer to whatever StarClan cat might still hold no animosity for her, to bring Houndkit back even as tears spill from her eyes and her brain already begins to process what her heart will not.

Gently, she lifts Houndkit away from her sister, tail coming to curl protectively around Fernkit while she places Houndkit's body between her front paws, desperately licking to try and force her blood to flow again, to try and force her lungs to work again. As she works, her tears are silent, whispering under her breath for her daughter to wake up.

She doesn't. And Larkwing finds herself collapsing over the body of her daughter, sobs still silent - as if afraid any louder would get the rest of them killed however irrational that thought might be. She clings to Houndkit's body, nose buried deep in calico fur and her tail curled tightly around Fernkit, wishing Faithkit were well enough to be with them. Wishing Fishfreckle were here.

[ OPEN for another queen to take notice ]
[ @Rowan - fern || @Dark - fish || @/Weekend-Wondering - hound ]

Owlstar had a habit. Whether or not it was a good one wasn't something others could debate over. She often times lingered around the nursery in her free time, pacing the area, sticking near the entrance, making moss balls for kits to play with if they so wished. But today was different, as grief was heavy in the air. Owlstar stilled and peaked inside of the den to find a sobbing Larkwing, cradling her kit, as well as a few yowls of uproar by those nearby.

Dead.

Houndkit was dead.

Her chest tightened before she weaved her way towards the queen, pushing herself forward with the audible crunch of the leftover snow on her calloused paws.

Owlstar sat down next to Larkwing and hesitated before pressing her matted fur to her side. She didn't say a word. Owlstar had lost a child before. Once. She still wasn't sure where he went, she just hoped he was safe, as safe as a kit could be on the mountains. Stars... He wasn't safe... She couldn't say she could completely understand Larkwing's pain, that wasn't right, but she could grasp it, taste the sorrow that suffocated the room.

And she just sat there.

Silent.

She figured Larkwing would want a burial when she was ready. A death of a child was never a pill one wanted to swallow. She didn't take notice to Mountainspring's orders, infact they became a form of background noise to her. At least most of the kits were being handled. Tragedy wasn't pretty.