You're busy dying if you're living in the past

When morning had come, the first thought that had come to Crowley's mind was the pondering of what might befall him today. He'd gone through bouts of terrible paranoia, blindness, even atrocious boils and insatiable hunger and thirst in the grips of battle... What else could possibly hinder him now? He wasn't complaining, of course, but he couldn't help but wonder what might come of him next. But until he found out, he would seize the opportunity to try and have somewhat of a normal day in this not so normal world.

With Talbot at his side, Crowley ventured from the safety and comfort of his favored cave and trudged through the thinning snow, determined to get to the lighted lake before the Moon decided to play another trick upon him. The company of another, preferably the likes of d'Artagnan or another member of the Plague, is what he sought, but he knew not what their lives had been like since the start of this eternal night. He had heard some rumors of things, but nothing had been put into motion as far as he was aware. Perhaps somebody of the organization could shed some light on what he had heard.

But as he drew ever closer to the lake, the faintest of sounds caused Talbot to come to a sudden halt, his body growing stiff as his head snapped to the side to pinpoint the location. A low wuff escaped his throat, causing the brindled stallion to come to a stop and follow his partner's gaze. In the distance, a faint silhouette could be made out on the ground, quite dark in comparison to the snow in which is laid. Under the light of the moon, Crowley could recognize the silver sheen of a coat, and his eyes widened with realization.

It was Elizabeth.

Without a word, the Weaver wheeled to the right and moved into a swift-footed gallop to close the gap of distance between them. At first he had been unaware if she was just lazing about or if something was wrong, but as he came closer, it was apparent that it was the latter. Slowing as he neared, and then stopping at the downed mare's side, Crowley outstretched his muzzle to Elizabeth's side until it touched. For a moment he was silent, trying to decipher the condition of the Corporal; it was startling to realize that her sides no longer rose and then fell.

"Elizabeth," the brindle spoke up, his tone firm as he lifted his head and replaced his muzzle to the mare's cheek, giving it a firm push to try and rouse the mare, but there was no reaction. Even Talbot couldn't muster anything from her, and eventually he stepped back, whining softly and taking up his place beside Crowley. The Weaver's ears slicked back at the lack of response, and he gave another push, and another, but still... there was nothing. Elizabeth was gone, and there was nothing he could do to bring her back.

Though Weaver and Corporal had never been terribly close in terms of 'mates', they had created a beautiful daughter together, and perhaps it was this fact that pained Crowley the most. Elizabeth had done much to help protect the herd from intruders, thus keeping it safe while the others rested and milled about. It was not the fact that he was without her now that hurt him the most, but the fact that Rhiannon was now without a mother. What would his beloved daughter do once she found out about this? Would she cry, be angry, ask why her mother would never walk at her side again and watch her grow into a seasoned mare, or become a member of the Plague?

Looking down at the Corporal with a harsh gaze, Crowley was silent for some time as he mulled this sudden turn of events over. Elizabeth was dead, the Basin was with one less Corporal, the Plague with one less member, and tonight, a young filly had lost a mother. "Why now?" The brindle spoke up, clearly at a loss of what to make of the lifeless body sprawled out before him. A deep breath caused his sides to expand, until he let it out harshly and allowed his eyes to fall shut in frustration. "Well, wherever you are, rest in peace; you have earned it. I only wish you could have told Rhiannon goodbye."