camp IF I CAN MAKE IT TO MORNING // sick

[MUDPELT]

The fever had come swiftly, gripping him in the night so that he trembles and shakes in his nest besides loved ones. By the time dawn's light filters in through the beautiful shells and stones, woven into the den by nimble RiverClan paws, he is panting. The tom awakens in a cold sweat, blinking bleary eyes as worry begins to overtake him. He has had colds before; he has never felt like this.

"Excuse me," He mumbles to someone as he knocks against them in his stumbling out of the warrior's den. Long legs nearly cross each other with each step, his breaths coming faster, harder, like he just can't gulp in enough oxygen. "I need water," Mudpelt grunts when someone asks him if he's alright. His eyes are squeezed shut now, his head pounding. "Ow...." Finally, he gives up on his stumbling and falls back onto his haunches in a sloppy sitting position, shoulders hunched as another wave of shivers overtakes him.​

 

[LILYBLOOM.]

The sickness creeping through the clans has been worrying to say the least. Lilybloom can't say its been pleasant seeing clanmates fall ill and knowing there was very little to be done to help them. One thing Lilybloom counts herself lucky for is not having any of her family or Lakemoon fall ill with yellowcough.

That is until today it would seem. Her green eye spots Mudpelt stumbling wearily out of the warrior's den, and almost instantly she knows something isn't right. He nearly tangles his legs together as he walks and to be quite honest it's a miracle he's still standing. "Are you alright?" Lilybloom asks, finally standing to step closer to her father. She keeps her distance a little bit, but her eye never quite leaves her father, watchful for any signs he might collapse. He eventually croaks out that he needs water and Lilybloom nods. "Alright, I'll get you some," Lilybloom responds. "Just stay here and don't go wandering off on me."

The tortoiseshell disappears for a few moments, searching for some moss, which she promptly proceeds to wet with water before returning back to him. By the time she returns, he has given up standing, though looks in an even worse state with his shoulders hunched. Lilybloom leaves the moss in front of him and then quickly steps back. "Drink," She urges gently. "How long have you felt sick?"​

 

[FERNGILL]

Steepsnout wasn't well, he knew that much- and he'd fringed away from her a little bit, skittering across a radius, afraid to approach. It wasn't selfishness, but fear- which maybe was selfish. His sister might need him right now, but... he couldn't do it, afraid of what might be sprawling beneath her skin unseen. Fernpaw watched on helpless, withdrawn- flame a-flicker, enthusiasm dying. He grew dimmer at the sight of his stumbling father, his ever-strong mentor.

His older sister was braver than him, flocking toward their father to heed his request. Fernpaw's verdant eye narrowed a little, lids wobbling in scrutiny and undeniable worry. No- no, not his father too. How was that fair? Strong and large, the both of them... everything that Fernpaw wasn't. Shaking and faltering, exhausted... oh, his mind spiralled when it came to these things.

"He's not sick," Fernpaw said, stupidly. His unharmed eye glanced around desperately for someone, anyone to validate him. "He works hard. He's a good warrior. He's just tired." Even as he said it, Fernpaw did not appear very convinced. He'd never been very good at suppressing his emotions, and worry was beginning to twitch across his pelt. But Mudpelt didn't deserve to be sick- no one did, and yet... yet, it got them anyway.​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[iciclefang]

Steepsnout is sequestered in Ravensong’s den, and now, from across camp, Iciclefang watches her father stumble his way out of the warrior’s den and sit down with a wince as sunlight streams into his eyes. Lilybloom notices, too, and unlike her younger sister, she goes to him, offering water-soaked moss, asking gentle questions. She stares with something like dismay.

It’s not until Fernpaw says, He’s not sick, that Iciclefang’s frown hardens. She approaches, her icy gaze pinning her littermate in place. “You’re a fool if you believe that. He looks worse than Steepsnout did, and she’s sick, too.” The mottled warrior’s tail lashes once. “I’m getting Ravensong.” She does not spare Mudpelt a look, because she can’t bear to see her father looking so pained, so weak.

She whirls about, a black-and-gold streak aiming for Ravensong’s den.

✧ INFO.

• @RAVENSONG
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[RAVENSONG]

He has seen too many cases of yellowcough for his liking—but the benefit of them is how quickly he can reliably diagnose his Clanmates. And despite the raven-furred medicine cat's frantic warnings and bristling stance while his Clanmates keep insisting on gathering around the sick, taking it unseriously, makes him fume, seconds from losing his temper and snapping under the weight of the pressure he was put under.

When Iciclefang comes to him, he guesses almost immediately and rushes out of his den, finding the dark brown tom struggling across the camp. "Back away," He shows his teeth, he is more snappish than usual, and even Fernpaw's presence does little to quell the raised fur along his back. They are Mudpelt's family, he reminds himself, and starts to calm somewhat though not enough to feel guilty for treating them the same as he would any other group of cats.

"You'll have to move into my den. I have something to help." He informs the warrior, matter-of-factly. But there is no more lungwort. "Can one of you please change his nest in the warrior's den—?"

☾₊ ⊹ темная ночь — dark is the night

•  
• 
  RAVENSONG of RIVERCLAN
  — LH BLACK POLYDACTYL MALE (CARRYING CINNAMON, DILUTE) a tall, slender creature with pitch-black feathery fur, large ears, and a sharply angled skull held up in an aloof manner. smells of dried herb, speaks with a low and rumbly accent and walks with an elegant slinking gait.
  
  — born in twolegplace and orphaned at a young age, he joined riverclan at its inception and began training as a drypaw warrior known for a bitter temperment until beesong made him his medicine cat apprentice. after his mentor's untimely death, he had been named ravensong at the moonstone, young heart revitalized with anger and guilt. he is a somber and thorough medicine cat that guards every word spoken in the confines of his den.
  
  — secretly loves "the stars but not so much what inhabits them"
  — openly suffers from chronic migraines
  — single, but "it's complicated"

​

 

[MUDPELT]

Mudpelt rasps for breath, hardly hearing his eldest daughter as she leaves to retrieve water. He can hardly register Fernpaw nearby, assuring everyone that he's fine, he's healthy. The soaked moss is placed in front of him, Lilybloom's voice in his ear telling him to drink and he listens obediently. Weakened, he lowers himself onto his belly and laps hungrily at the water-soaked clump. When asked how long he's felt sick and looks up, blinking against the sunlight. "I- I felt fine yesterday. I don't know what happened," He confesses, needing to squeeze his eyes shut to focus.

He regards his younger daughter leaving to fetch the medicine cat and it isn't long before he arrives. He nods slowly, getting to his paws and turning to walk. He thinks he's walking towards the medicine den, at least.​