every morning i ride on a carousel - npc sickness

[milkthorn.]

fast, four hundred on the dash
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Training was an every day thing, thankfully. But, normally, it was hours until they would be walking back to camp. It wasn't much of an hour before Dewmist expressed her exhaustion. Her panting from their endurance training caused Milkpaw to laugh. "What, tired already? Man, i could run circles around you today!" He taunted, almost proving his point, well, until he witnessed her eyes roll inside her skull, and the blue warrior seeming to faint. He would jab her softly with his toes, a chuckle escaping his throat. "Okay, stop playing-" But, there was no response from the warrior, her face planting into the ground should have been enough as she lay there.

"Oh shit." He cursed, his head turning and looking around for anyone to be near, but it seemed it was just the two of them. A sharp inhale. His eyes closing before preparing himself to have to drag the warrior until he found help, or all the way to camp. Now, unfortunately, this warrior was heavy, as his jaws clamped her scruff, and he began dragging her. It did not look comfy, her body limply dragging across the ground. But now closer, he did smell an unfamiliar smell of sickness lingering on her pelt. She had admitted to feel queasy earlier, he remembered, but he did not think twice about it.

Could she have gotten this sickness? Is he gonna be in the predicament of others now? Trapped in the medicine den with disgusting boogery cats? He hoped not.

He quickly grew tired, limbs pushing hard against the ground to pull the scruff of the warrior. He'd set her head down gently before beginning to pant. For fucks sake, this was not an easy task. But he would pull through, he kind of had to at this point. She still was not waking up, but he had seen her eyes roll a few times, before back to sleep she went. Maybe she was playing, to task him with something difficult.

That was the hope.

But as he did sight another warrior, he would quickly drop her, her head hitting the ground and a wince of pain crossing her face. "Hey! HEY BUD COME HELP ME OUT OVER HERE!" He would shout as loud as he could to the other warrior that he could not assign a name to yet until they would approach closer. "Shes not dead, she passed out, i- dont know what happened." He explained quickly as they neared, before they would assume the worst.

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thought speech​

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonpaw wasn't allowed out of camp on her lonesome anymore, per Wolfsong's rules. The strictness was as stifling as it was understandable, especially given her track record. But... it just meant she would have to get creative! Either with willing warriors to bring her out, or with her excuses for whatever absences the pale furred tom may notice. Her chaperones for the day seem to find more trouble than she usually does.

Milkpaw is shouting at them from a distance, and Cottonpaw can just barely make out the crumpled form of his mentor beside him. "Oh, Milkpaw, what did you do now..." the apprentice murmurs almost humorlessly, though as she grows closer to the apprentice, she can notice the sick scent radiating off of Dewmist. Her nose wrinkles up, and she sends a prayer that this isn't whatever is raging through the Clans now. Maybe - maybe, it's just a very, very bad cold. Yeah right...

"I'll go ahead and warn Wolfsong," she decides, wary of whatever ick has contaminated Dewmist, and admittedly unwilling to bring it around her pregnant mentor so readily. "I won't be of help dragging her, anyways," she decides. A former tunneler apprentice lends to her small stature, after all. In any case, as long as she's not stopped by another, the young she-cat trots off at a quick pace to discuss with @WOLFSONG about what to do.​

 

[WEASELCLAW]

Like Cottonpaw, Weaselclaw’s first thought when he hears Milkpaw’s frantic shouts are not kind. What trouble are you causing now, you little imp? The tabby’s tail lashes once in frustration as he gives his own apprentice a tail signal to follow him. Whatever trouble there may be, he wants her to bear witness. The folly, it turns out, is not of the pale tomcat’s doing—Dewmist lays slumped in the grass, unmoving even as he prods her ribs.

He gives Cottonpaw an uneasy look—if she’s sick with the plague that the kittypets have cursed their forest with, he does not want her close… nor does he want Wolfsong close, admittedly. “Can she move, or is she buzzard food?” His temper flares—what sort of harebrain is Dewmist, leaving camp when she’s this close to what appears to be death? “If she felt sick this morning, she should not have come this far. We all risk ourselves dragging her back to camp.” He prods her at a distance, extending his paw as far as he can. “Get up. Wolfsong is pregnant, he can’t be racing across the moor trying to heal you.” If she does not rise, the lead warrior will grimace, curse, and bend to sink his teeth into the scruff of her neck.

✧ INFO.

• obligatory apprentice tag @HOLLYPAW.
• 
  — 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

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[milkthorn.]

fast, four hundred on the dash
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

She didn't want to accept that she was not feeling well. She thought it was the exhaustion of waking up. Thought the hoarse throat was her body begging for water, which she had lapped up before they went training. It was sudden. One second, she had began panting, from well, working in the heat, and the next she had lost her vision, passed out. She was in a void of darkness, her voice unheard as her belly churned, and the random hits of pain would coarse through her.

But enough prodding, the talks of voices, before the world of light would reveal herself as a brown tabby would begin to lean down and she grumbled some sort of words she was too incoherent to even understand herself. he was not happy, but neither was she. Shed roll to her paws, her vision unsteady, her blue gaze felt like it was spinning. Her body felt heavy.

She had a duty for her apprentice, as much as she held that distaste for him. But he would have to deal with it himself. "M sorry," she managed, heaving herself to shaky limbs. Her vision blurred, her eyes fluttered, but shed push foreward.

-

"Thank you cottonpaw." His voice was shaky, adrenaline still coarsing through him on his own shaky paws. He didn't know what to say, what really to do. And they weren't seeming to blame him. But as WeaselClaw approached, he gave a gulp. It was to his surprise that the warrior didn't immediately accuse him of some dastardly thing. But, it was very obvious without wounds that it wasn't him.

"She hasn't yet. Was nervous she was dead." he said, her ears pressing to his head in concern. WeaselClaw began cursing to the molly to wake up, but it seemed she would not. And he was right. They were risking themselves dragging her to camp. But they were consistently always at risk. His mouth opened to protest the other tom on lifting her own body with his jaws, feeling regret that he would even have asked for help at the realization of putting this sickness on others, but the blue molly had seemed to groggily wake up.

"If anyones getting infected, it would already be me, dragging her across the moors," he muttered. So as she stood, he would press a shoulder to her side, observing the shaky pained movements. His own muscles were sore. His own limbs and small form struggled to keep her weight up as she leaned on the apprentice for support. And though he did wish WeaselClaw would help, he didn't want the angry tom subject to it either.

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thought speech​