A PLAGUE OF LOCUSTS ✧ yellowcough

[WEASELCLAW]

He’d been foolish to brush pelts with Sootstar, to guide her back to her den and continue sleeping in the same nest. Weaselclaw does not consider these things foolish—he only considers his mate’s well-being, her comfort, and if by day he’s feeling a little worse for wear, well, so what? Leaf-fall is upon them now, and in WindClan, where the moorland hills are swept with considerably cooler air, Weaselclaw thinks nothing of the chills he fights one morning on a dawn patrol. His belly cramps, but when he thinks of the fieldmouse he’d attempted to nibble this morning, he has to grimace and force the memory of the spoiled-tasting meat out of his mind.

“I need to rest a moment,” he pants to his patrolmates, coming to a halt just at the base of the next hill. They aren’t too far from camp, and he wonders why he’s so exhausted already. Perhaps he’d needed to force the rest of the mouse down… but his stomach clenches again at the idea, and he snorts, sucking mucus up into the base of his skull as he does.

And then—then he thinks about Sootstar, the hoarse quality to her voice, and Moorpaw, the glob of phlegm flying from her hacking jaws. Weaselclaw’s breath suddenly feels as though it’s not forthcoming, that his lungs are squeezed. “I’m…” The tabby sounds puzzled, and he stares at the cats around him, all of whom must be thinking the same thing.

He cannot bring himself to say it.

✧ INFO.

• @HOLLYPAW. apprentice tag, but not need to wait!
• 
  — weasel . weaselclaw
  — he/him ; lead warrior of windclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Sootstar
  — short-haired chocolate tabby with white and blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Oliver

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── Wolfsong still recovers from bearing kits, though they are not as fragile as they once were and he far less sore. Cottonpaw has been learning slowly, and while he is not displeased with her progress, she cannot be expected to carry out the full extent of his responsibilities, so today, he has ventured from camp in search of more herbs. He is particularly interested in doing his best to scavenge what remains of feverfew in the cooling air, keenly aware of the depleted lungwort store. Instead, he finds a patrol not far from camp, Weaselclaw among them— and panting quite heavily, with such an expression that has Wolfsong hesitate to assume he's merely recovering his breath from sprinting.

"Weaselclaw," he begins, and his mind leaps to Sootstar, to their children, to the last lungwort and Sunstride. A father for a father. Is that what I am forced into? He swallows hard. Weaselclaw is not dead— not yet, and he will do his best to ensure he remains so. It may be that it is not yellowcough, though he does not allow himself the optimism. "How long have you been feeling like this?" His kits remain in the medicine den, and selfishly, he would not have them share the nursery. "I must speak with your mate— I do not wish to risk our healthy warriors more than necessary. It may be time to...place those with yellowcough separate from camp." Weaselclaw will understand, he hopes. He is a pragmatic sort. Even when staring down his death in an abandoned badger set, slowly sickening without lungwort? ​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 38 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[SCORCHSTAR]

First Sootstar, and now Weaselclaw. The sickness is spreading, and there is nothing that any of them can do to stop or slow it. The progress of digging the new tunnel has slowed significantly in response, with just as many tunnelers falling ill as moor runners. She’s been wandering the moorland aboveground as of late, trekking along the path that the new tunnel will follow to seek out potential hazards before they become a problem. They should not face another badger if such a misstep can be avoided.

When she comes across the patrol that Weaselclaw travels alongside, it becomes quickly apparent what fate has befallen the fierce moor runner. The presence of the golden-furred tom, and the question that he asks of the other lead warrior, is enough to confirm what Scorchstreak suspects: her friend has contracted the sickness, hurt once again because of those foolish SkyClanners.

Wolfsong suggests to Weaselclaw that the sick should be separate from camp, and the tunneler protests immediately. "Are you-" She cuts herself off with a harsh click of her teeth. Of course Wolfsong is sure that moving their ill away from the heart of camp is the best course of action. Were there another option, surely the healer would have suggested something else. But the realization has struck her deep and true—SkyClan’s plague is gradually spreading its darkness to the clan, and before long they will have another wintertime situation on their paws. With another look to Weaselclaw, gaze laden with concern, the calico takes a step back, further away from the sick tom. "If the sick are to be sent away, I can help to ensure they are fed."​

[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ I AM SORRY THIS IS ALWAYS HOW IT GOES ❀❀​

---

periwinklebreeze & 14 moons & demi-boy & he/they & windclan moor runner​

---

Another day, another sick cat - they are running out of healthy warriors, peri can't help but think. Where peri has always had respect and admiration to temper his fear and distrust of sootstar, the same cannot be said of weaselclaw - no, the boy holds only dislike, or perhaps even disgust towards the tom. But he's smart enough to keep his mouth shut, to hide it best he can. The fact he gets sick is hardly unexpected - blue eyes cold and passive even as wolfsong and scorchstreak fret. He does not wish the tom to die, for windclan to lose anymore warriors... but, a tiny part of him hopes it lingers long enough to hurt. That perhaps he will know what it is like to fear. He keeps silent on this dark thoughts however, instead flicking his head to look at the medicine cat upon his suggestion - "Th-the badger sett w-worked well enough for g-g-g-greencough," he says, as close to an agreement as one can drag from him.

— the wind blows loudest when you've got your eyes closed ❀

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: he wishes violence upon weasel oop
  tw/cw: mentions of sickness and death
  
• 
  — a lithe figured black and white tom with a false-pointed pattern and clear blue eyes that gleam periwinkle in the right lighting. he seems perpetually worn and exhausted, with heavy bags beneath his eyes and a slouched figure. he has a speech impediment which leaves him with a stutter and sometimes even completely non-verbal, and his fluffy tail is adorned with daisies.
  
  — physically medium && mentally easy && pacifist
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#ccccff]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[WEASELCLAW]

Weaselclaw lifts his head, ignoring the pressure behind his eyes as Wolfsong’s glinting gold fur seems to beam the sun right back into him. He peels his lips away from his teeth in a grimace, half-angry, half-afraid. “What do you mean, away from camp?” His tail lashes behind him, a silent agreement forming between himself and Scorchstreak. Neither of them can argue, though—the longer he and those infected with yellowcough like him remain in camp, the better chance the rest of the Clan has of catching the sickness.

The tabby’s chest aches, even as Periwinklebreeze stares at him with a dispassionate expression. The younger warrior must be remembering his brother, decaying with lungs blackening from frost. He now wonders if he’s to suffer the same fate, away from the warm embrace of his beloved, away from their children. “…Fine.” The abandoned badger set is where they’d sent their ill to die last time, and despite the courage sparking from his feverish blue eyes, Weaselclaw is damnably afraid. “I should… I should tell Sootstar and my kits goodbye, first. Outside of camp. Then we… will all go.”

He will not be a coward now—not now, when it matters most.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — weasel . weaselclaw
  — he/him ; lead warrior of windclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Sootstar
  — short-haired chocolate tabby with white and blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Oliver

​

 

[VENOMSTRIKE]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Venomstrike would never wish death upon his enemies or even let alone clanmates that he may have disagreements with from time to time, thankfully, the moor runner didn't have a lot of those and would approach slowly seeing that Wolfsong was out and about. Weaselclaw looked downright awful. The large moor runner rememebering how the tabby tom had brushed up against his mate when she had been showing symtoms of illness and he thinks the other moor runner to be a fool. Weaselclaw isn't Starclan blessed with nine lives like his mate had been and he only had the one, sure, he could understand worrying for her well being but the grey molly could simply... Pass and return.

Or so, that's what he believes. He does not know how many lives his leader possesses and it is none of his business to say the least, he keeps his distance and casts a quick look over in Scorchstreak's direction as she mentions hunting for the sick. If their sick clanmates were to be well, they'd have to work together and make sure that they didn't starve either. Venomstrike nods before speaking up "I'll help you a-as well," A soft breath leaves his jaws and he does his best to resist the urge of shaking his head and calling the tabby tom, that doesn't have that same ferocity he had before getting ill, a fool.​

[ HELL AND HIGH WATER, TO LAY HERE TOGETHER ]​