Ghost was fairly certain one of the contributing factors to his sickness was the fact that he'd held out so long to join in one the nightly dogpiles that started forming once the cold set in. He would stubbornly remain in his own nest night after night, covered in snow, until Nut and Nineteen had cornered him and threatened to just take up residence in the tabbys personal nest, to which he'd quickly offered to seperate their tails from their bodies should they find themselves so bold as to touch his personal sleeping area. The compromise then, had been that Ghost would move into their nest instead.
To be short, he hated it.
At first, at least. The proximity had left his skin crawling and the scents of so many cats had made him want to bristle and stalk out into the cold where he could freeze his nose off and not have to deal with it. Those first few nights he hadn't gotten any sleep at all, laid on the very edge of the group where he was closest to the edge of the nest, body barely in contact with whomever the closest cat had been at the time. He'd been in such a rush to get out of there that he hadn't even stopped to wake Nut up to join him for training, something that cat was probably greatful for despite the fact that it only farther sullied his day to have yet another change to deal with.
Eventually though, it did get easier.
He wasn't sure if Nut did it on purpose or not, but somewhere along the way the bobtail had began shifting farther from Puff and Nineteen to sleep closer to Ghost. At first it had left the masked tomcat on edge to have them so close, but after a while he realized it was the lesser of two evils having the other wedged between him and the others. Nut acted as a natural buffer between him and the other pair, and since he was arguably more used to the bobtails scent of closeness over his own brothers at this point, getting used to this new arrangement was easier than Ghost would likely admit.
Except now he was back in his own nest, away from the cats he was used to having nearby. Nobody to watch over, nobody to have his back in turn. It made for sleepless nights that he was eager to be done with.
"I know he is, but I'm sure you're good at keeping secrets between us, Ghosty,"
The tom snorted softly, but he didn't object to the statement. It was true after all, he wasn't going to rat the other out. Their next words prompted and eye roll though, because yes, leaving him to rot was exactly what Nut should have been doing. "You and your bleeding heart." he muttered, knowing full well his own softness was getting the better of him as well. He should have already ordered the other to leave, chased them straight from the den himself if it came down to it, but instead he let them plop their ass down and get comfortable, selfish in his sickness. Yes, he'd blame it on the sickness, all these poor decisions of his.
"How're you feeling? Do you know how long this sickness lasts?"
"Weeks, if your lucky. Never, if your not." Some cats would die from it. Those that that didn't could be downed for anywhere from a week to a moon. And that was just from what he'd seen it do in the Coalition. He wasn't sure what the recovery rates were in Windclan where they had a medic, but the fact that there'd only been one death so far was promising. Ghost didn't typically get sick. He was a strong cat with a solid immune system, but somewhere between all the running, stress, and change, something must have called it quits on him this winter.
"And I suppose I can't complain. I'm better than most of them." he said, gesturing to the other cats who lay sleeping and coughing weekly in their own nests. It was true that Ghost was among the more healthy of them, his symptoms persisitent but pretty mild compared to the ragged wheezing and hoarse coughing that came from some of the other Windclanners. If anything, Ghost just felt tired, both physically and mentally. He'd gone without sleep for days at a time in the past while running missions that didn't allow one to properly rest, but the slight fever he was running left him feeling more in a daze than anything.
"What about you and the others? Nobodys been showing signs of sickness, have they?" he asked, dark eyes looking to lilac tom over briefly. It was clear that by 'the others' he meant Nineteen and Puff rather than the Windclanners as a whole, their health and immediate safety beyond his jurisdiction. Sootstar could handle her own, and he'd take care of his.
rogue - male - 25 months - single - a very tall, muscular tabby with dark gray fur and white markings. heavily scarred with dark amber eyes
