Memento Mori

Eleanor stood motionless as her mother re-read the letter over and over.
“We regret to inform you that your son, Yew Consuela, fell while in the line of combat.”
Her mother’s paws began to tremble, lips quivering as she struggled to continue reciting the message… and there stood Eleanor, uncharacteristically expressionless. Eleanor's younger siblings, the other pair of twins, immediately began to sob. The family was shocked, expecting this to be another letter updating them on Yew's achievements. Soon after, her father walked across the room, clearing a path with his cane as he took the twins aside– well aware this was too much for them all at once. Soon after, her mother would hand the letter to her before leaving, muttering the words “I’m sorry” through her tears. And so, Eleanor continued to read.
“We regret to request this in such a turbulent time, especially after the service your family has done to the state, but your next of kin is required to enlist as per the mandatory draft.”
She stopped reading after that, no amount of thoughts and prayers could ever quell the maelstrom of emotions swirling within. Pain, guilt, sorrow, remorse– none of these words were sufficient to describe the hole that began eating away at her heart. For the first time in her life, she was at a loss for words to articulate what she thought about this. She was unable to notice her eyes beginning to water or the tears beginning to stain her rose-colored fur– claws beginning to dig into the letter.
“Elie?”
Instantly, her eyes darted up to meet her father– stumbling over to meet her gaze as he gently began to wipe the tears from her eyes.
“Dad… I-”
“It’s alright, I know.”
Dropping his cane and near crumbling under the weight of his own body, the decrepit wolf embraced his daughter, sharing in a moment of mutual pain and loss.
“Had I known they would’ve forced you kids into this, I would’ve never retired.”
Eleanor doesn’t respond, staring at his fallen cane as her father’s stories of glory in battle fill her mind. What was once a strong, powerful wolfkin now stands before her, scarred and debilitated by the “glory” of war.
“...it’s not your fault. I’m the one he volunteered for.”
“He made a choice, Elie… and it’s too late for any of us to change that. All we can do is live with it.”
“...if I die, will one of the twins have to enlist?”
“Don’t go saying that dear, you’re not going to–”
“Yew promised that too.“
“...”
“I– I’m sorry. That was too far.
Instead of responding, her father simply raised his paw and began to gently tussle her hair, a crooked smile forming on his face.
“You’re a lot like him. You never know when to shut that muzzle of yours… but I guess you get that from your mother.”
“And what do I get from you?”
“Well… definitely not my looks. I'd say I look more like the rug than I do you kids.”
Eleanor softly laughs, sniffling as her eyes begin to dry before kicking up her father’s cane and handing it to him.
“Are you alright to talk with your mother, Elie?”
“Mhmm… let's get going.”
“After you, little lady.”
She finally sets down the letter, placing it down as she glances once more before quickly turning around to meet with her mother. Hiding the grief and sorrow that festered within her, Eleanor embraced her family with only one thought on her mind. Death is coming and she needs to fight to survive, no matter the cost. For her parents, for her siblings, for Yew, she will survive this war.