It was not often that Berryheart found himself truly wanting to do something- but of course, irony's strike was always quick and ruthless. Though the chars from the fire had long died down and the smoke was an era away by now, Berryheart could still feel the smog in his lungs, wheezing breaths leaving him heaving for laboured breaths like an elder. On any other day, with any other freedom, the dappled tom would feel unbothered about his breathing acting up- but today he was compelled with a mission, one he was rendered too groggy to manage.
He was no idiot- that fact he prided himself upon. The logical side of him- the majority- was telling him, urging him that he needed to rest. He would only damage himself further should he push his limits, especially with breaths as thick with murk as now. The air, suffocating and sparse, reminded him of being back in the swamp again- yet, he was looking up at sun-shone canopy and breathing miasma all at once.
A great sigh scraped through his throat, interrupted by peals of coughing. Though quiet, as was everything Berryheart did, they were frequent as running pawsteps. Lying on his belly, he was forced to the side as the coughs wrought his body; yet even as they died down, he stayed flopped, undignified, uncomfortable. Frustration burned cold in his olive-hued gaze.
He was no idiot- that fact he prided himself upon. The logical side of him- the majority- was telling him, urging him that he needed to rest. He would only damage himself further should he push his limits, especially with breaths as thick with murk as now. The air, suffocating and sparse, reminded him of being back in the swamp again- yet, he was looking up at sun-shone canopy and breathing miasma all at once.
A great sigh scraped through his throat, interrupted by peals of coughing. Though quiet, as was everything Berryheart did, they were frequent as running pawsteps. Lying on his belly, he was forced to the side as the coughs wrought his body; yet even as they died down, he stayed flopped, undignified, uncomfortable. Frustration burned cold in his olive-hued gaze.
[ PENNED BY PIN ]