This looks like the last photo I took of the pair of them together. The one on the right died this morning, so, instead of easing into what looks like a very busy day, I’ve been digging a large hole and calming the remaining one.
They’re really very old, for rescue chickens. (All our chickens have been rescues from egg production plants and farms.) It appears that she got up, finished the food, had some water, began her usual practice of unleashing a blood-chilling howl for her breakfast in order to shred my early-morning brain, and keeled over on the spot. So our comfort is that she went out in the way she would have wanted to.