The Saga of Fatima of the Gold-dust Feathers! UPDATED - Fatima died...

[Miss Sebright]

What's Fatima doing for Christmas?

 

[keeperofthehearth]

Merry Christmas, Fatima!

 

[lex381]

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!

 

[Krodsorin]

C'mon , We Want Fatima!

 

[Krodsorin]

And a Merry Christmas To Everyone

My Baby Chicks Hatched On Christmas.

 

[HorseFeathers]

OK, sorry for the long wait.

Chapter 29: And The Cold Came
An empty space now filled with cold air on the roost. The snow filtered down, soft as chick down, and coated the grass on the day Rita of the Small Flame died.
Rita had been sick. Very sick. She had been laying eggs inside of herself for many months. And then one day... she was gone.
The Great-Handed Ones gathered around a pathetically small mound of dirt just outside the run. Fatima of the Gold-dust Feathers paced back and forth along the fence, calling for treats.
Olympia of Midnight gave her a peck. "Stop that! Don't you know Rita's gone?"
"Gone where?" Fatima cocked her head.
"She's just gone." Olympia turned her gaze back to the small mound. The Girl and Woman with Great Hands were crying softly.
"What's so exciting about dirt?" Fatima asked no one in particular, confused about all the fuss.
Phoebe of the Striped Wings made a small strangled sound and Olympia pecked Fatima again. "That's Rita!" the black hen clucked sadly. "That's Rita under there!"
Then Fatima understood. Rita was dead. Gone.
Overwhelmed, she retreated into the coop and crouched in an empty nestbox, a bad habit she thought she had broken as a chick. Poor Rita... and poor Olympia and Phoebe. Now they were the only ones left of the original flock.
And the cold came, unforgiving and unheeding of the flock's crisis. The snow came thicker and stronger, and the days grew colder. The flock nearly forgot about Rita, except for the odd instance when someone would make a Rita-esque squawk or one of the younger hens would suddenly leap into the air as Rita used to do.
Fatima now had no orange feathers to snuggle up to in the cold, cold nights; Olympia had no competition for lead hen (which, though she would never admit it, missed sorely); Lillith was now the smallest hen in the flock.
All had changed.
And the cold still came.

 

[Miss Sebright]

Poor Rita. Thanks for the new chapter HorseFeathers.

 

[keeperofthehearth]

Wonderfully written but still ..... sorry for your loss.

 

[LizFM]

Wow this was the best chapter so far! Excellent work.

 

[Uzuri]

I can just hear a cold wind blowing through that chapter. That kind of icy sounds you get this time of year.