Crunching through the soft bones of her daughter the poor feral fluffy mother does her best to ignore the final fitful death throes, she sobs quietly trying to not wake her “Bestest Babbeh” who she would sacrifice anything for.
From behind her she hears scrabbling from the cardboard box that passes for her nest, Bestest Babbeh has awoken, he wont understand, he might even hate her for doing this but she knows that without this profane act he would die also.
on a more personal note, I fucking hate winter, I never want to do anything, finally felt like drawing something but didn’t want to faff about with the drawing tablet or my scanner apparently.
