camp I NEVER MEANT FOR THIS TO HAPPEN ꕥ& sick

[LAMBCURL.]

It was when he had thanked StarClan for his meal – prey that was plentiful and nourishing as it danced across the moors, much unlike the small, stringy bundles that would tuck themselves under the earth come Leafbare. The slide down his throat has been more uncomfortable than he'd remembered it ever being. When he dreamt that night, the burn had never quite went away.

He has been sick before, one chilly Leafbare where a plague had swept through the barn he called home. He remembered not being able to breathe, wheezing out paltry breaths through a stuffy nose as he'd rested his weary head atop strands of dry golden - brown.

He had lived then, he didn't think there was anyone who hadn't, but he supposes, he was too young to remember.

Wolfsong had more uses for his stock than him. There were warriors stronger and faster than he; that were they not made better right away, the clan would surely suffer for it. He, by comparison, was an expendable thing, a breath of life into WindClan that would continue to be passed. Even though it saddens him so, he spends his nights curled the tunnels, and his days around as few as he could manage – and as the tunnels were, very few was very possible.

It is when day breaks, and – oh, his breath was reduced to a wheeze, the same as it had been that day so long ago, that he considers: perhaps, this could not be gotten over so easily. The sun burns his eyes – and this is confusing to him, the sun itself a flaming thing that he could not wrap his mind around. His steps are slow. And then, he does n ot recall what he had even come for. He finds that he is not very hungry at all. A tendril of discomfort curls round his ears, making them hot in a way he cannot explain. " Has it always been so… hot? " It is a question to no one, pearls at his eyes as they squint to escape the sun. The gaping maw of a nearby tunnel was oh so sinister, for a reason he could not name. This – this was home, he knew, he remembered, but had it always been like this? He looks at it in a way he never used to. Lambcurl shakes his head. A soft wheezing sound, " ...I'm sorry. "

〖 OOC 𓆩ꕥ𓆪 NOTES 〗

• OOC: he caught da ickness...
  
•  
• 
  LAMBCURL: HE / HIM , CISGENDER MALE ; GAY & SINGLE, IN LOVE WITH EVERYBODY TBH ; TUNNELER OF WINDCLAN ; 44
  tiny, curly - furred albino tom with teary pink eyes. ; dreamy – eyed and dreamy – minded, Lambcurl drags himself across the land with an ever-present smile and glassy bug eyes. Deeply honored to hold his position as a tunneler and whisperingly reverent with everything he does. Somewhat unnerving in ideals and the way he speaks, but he means well.
  — tentative voice claim: fox mulder
  

 

[BLUEFROST]

Gravelsnap. Moorpaw. Weaselclaw. Sootstar. Bluepaw's world is narrowing just a little more each day, and Wolfsong's lungwort stock—how low is it now, she wonders? Is the cure ThunderClan had brought them news of effective if it doesn't exist? The gray she-cat wills herself not to fret, knowing StarClan would not punish WindClan so, especially those closest to her. She is the daughter of a star-blessed queen, and so she cannot lose those closest to her. They are blessed by extension, are they not? She wonders this as she watches Lambcurl on wobbly legs, pink eyes shining and breath raspy and slow.

It's not hot today. It's cool, really, for this early in leaf-fall, and the wind is brisk even in camp. She hears his whispered, "I'm sorry," and for a moment, Bluepaw grasps a memory. She is a kit again, soon to enter the tunnels her mother pioneers. Lambcurl sits, listening to a story told by another tunneler, and Bluepaw draws close, the strange pink-eyed tom a comfort, an inspiration.

She approaches him on tentative paws. "You should come lay down in Wolfsong's den, Lambcurl. You do not look well."

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — bluekit . bluepaw
  — she/her, apprentice of windclan
  — bisexual ; single
  — long-haired blue she-cat with white and green eyes
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — art by Meg

​

 

[SCORCHSTAR]

The ember-streaked tunneler observes her clanmate with suspicion—but the suspicion only fades into confusion as the strange tom speaks. Sick. He is sick. Bluepaw seems to have caught onto his plight as well, and Scorchstreak approaches with cautious pawsteps, coming to a stop beside the blue-furred apprentice. Bluepaw seems hesitant, which is understandable given the apparently contagious nature of this disease. So many clanmates have fallen ill, and the calico hopes not to see another succumb to sickness.

She squares her shoulders, straightening to the greatest height that her stature will allow. Bluepaw suggests that the tom should make his way to Wolfsong's den and see the healer, and Scorchstreak nods along. "Yes, Lambcurl, you should see Wolfsong if you're feeling bad." Her words are flat, but her tone is laced with concern for her ghostly pale tunnel-mate. "I don't mean any offense, but you don't look good."​

[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

​

 

[HARRIERSTRIPE]

Harrierpaw stares at the white warrior and finds himself in agreement, Bluepaw and Scorchstreak were right. Retaining his distance he can't help but think 'Ghostwail never looks good', the appearance of WindClan's ghostly white cats with soul-staring pink eyes had always freaked him out. Luckily, they were all tunnelers as they seemed to have some aversion to the sun- even stranger.

"If anything it's been cooling down." Harrierpaw would inform, cats had been telling him Green-leaf had ended and Leaf-fall would be in full effect soon. The air would grow chilly, and he had been told if he notices extra fur growth it'd be normal. Out of all days, today was not one to be as hot Ghostwail appeared to be.

"Feel better." Harrierpaw's tone was dry, but the wish is sent his way nonetheless.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Harrierpaw
  » WindClan Apprentice
  » He/him
  » A black and chocolate chimera with golden eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
• 
  » A foe who uses jeers and jaunts to distract his opponents.
  » Excels in using terrain to his advantage.
  » Fights to outwit and see another day.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

 

[LAMBCURL.]

Pale paws. Small, like his own. Lambcurl does not leer toward the familiar face like he may have on any other day. He shuts his eyes against the dizzying sun; remains still for a moment, hoping that if he grasps the ground physically, he may be able to mentally as well. When an eye squints open, the world is still covered in thick fog. He knows who this is, and yet the name escapes him, suddenly.

You do not look well. The tom blinks wonderingly. How, he wonders, did one have to look to seem unwell. " Do I? " The question is dreamlike, not too dissimilar from how he always spoke, but with enough attention given, you hear the hint of breathlessness that should not be quite so. Lying down sounds quite nice, but he would also be quite useless, wouldn't he? His eyes slip shut. He allows his head to lull. He was tired… He was.

This too, is a voice he knows, and knows well. Did he feel bad? He was warm, and his throat scratches when he talks, he feels as if he must do a great deal in order to breathe… He supposes he did feel bad. If anything it's been cooling down, he is told, and the breath is short with his soft, " Oh. " Sudden quiet.

This – this was a dilemma. To help, is all he's ever wanted. He would not help, but having herbs spent on him. He would not help, by infecting any of his clanmates either.

Perhaps he should just leave.

But he's always loved WindClan, and the stars that sang above them. Where would he go? To StarClan, he supposes. His smile slips off his face, as he thinks.

It hurts his head, to think about it for too long. If you look closely you can see the sea of pink fog across his eyes, barely hidden sheen is fresh tears. This – was nothing new, even if right now, it confused him. He cannot find clarity. And distantly, it frustrates him. Presently, his mind is blank. " Perhaps… I should see him, " at last, he says, though he would only continue to look at the ground.

〖 OOC 𓆩ꕥ𓆪 NOTES 〗

• 
  
•  
• 
  LAMBCURL: HE / HIM , CISGENDER MALE ; GAY & SINGLE, IN LOVE WITH EVERYBODY TBH ; TUNNELER OF WINDCLAN ; 44
  tiny, curly - furred albino tom with teary pink eyes. ; dreamy – eyed and dreamy – minded, Lambcurl drags himself across the land with an ever-present smile and glassy bug eyes. Deeply honored to hold his position as a tunneler and whisperingly reverent with everything he does. Somewhat unnerving in ideals and the way he speaks, but he means well.
  — tentative voice claim: fox mulder
  

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── A quiet breath leaves Wolfsong's nose, not quite a sigh, but too heavy for a mere exhale. He spares a moment to observe the care shown by the WindClanners present, even knowing that close proximity could endanger their own health. We should not treat our ill as though they have become new creatures unworthy of our company, but so too is it important to prevent yellowcough's spread. The badger set is a place without the comfort of camp's liveliness, but it is safest for them all, and Wolfsong steps closer to the weakened Lambcurl.

"Indeed," he concurs, noting the pale feline's struggle for lucidity. "Though I believe it is time to escort you to the badger set, Lambcurl. You will not be alone there, and I will visit every day to ensure your condition does not worsen." But without lungwort, it will not improve.​

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.

​

 

[LAMBCURL.]

Had Wolfsong not found him first, he is not sure that he would have made any such move at all. It does not bring comfort, when the golden tom murmurs his words. Discomfort does not quite come either. Lambcurl is largely despondant, the foggy pinks of his gaze meeting Wolfsong with tears. He thinks such a thing is normal, in this sun, but he does not remember well. He wonders how he has lived a life like this for so long, with the very sun against him, and so many heads so much taller than his own.

The Badger Set. Did he have to go there? Oh, but he remembers. The bought of sickness before this. Yellowcough itself, has been named in its honor. The time where much of WindClan had to march down, so that the sickness could not be spread further. It is rational. That it is. It gladdens him, that it would not be so full as last time.

The Medicine Cat is met with a tearful look. It likely means nothing, though. Was this the last time he would see WindClan?

" Okay, " he agrees, because he always has. Though he did not want to go. Not really.

〖 OOC 𓆩ꕥ𓆪 NOTES 〗

• 
  
•  
• 
  LAMBCURL: HE / HIM , CISGENDER MALE ; GAY & SINGLE, IN LOVE WITH EVERYBODY TBH ; TUNNELER OF WINDCLAN ; 44
  tiny, curly - furred albino tom with teary pink eyes. ; dreamy – eyed and dreamy – minded, Lambcurl drags himself across the land with an ever-present smile and glassy bug eyes. Deeply honored to hold his position as a tunneler and whisperingly reverent with everything he does. Somewhat unnerving in ideals and the way he speaks, but he means well.
  — tentative voice claim: fox mulder