- Jul 25, 2024
- 17
- 2
- 3
Cats move in and out, in and out of her new somewhere. Pelts of more colors than she knew there could be flash through her vision, making her world, cloaked in delirium and fever - heat, swim in a rainbow of natural shades that distort around her, the furred shapes plastering themselves to the gorse walls of this place. What has grown ever - present are the golden - furred thing with the turquoise eye as clear as a bell, as clear as her lungs are not—Wolf, she calls him with her limited breath, though she knows vaguely that his true name is longer; and the smoky one who had brought her home, with the kind blue eyes, Cotton.
" Hot, " she pants between her milk - fangs, waves of feverish heat rolling over her black - and - white pelt. Her head feels impossibly heavy, blood - swollen and overripe, as she lifts it—but lift it she does, her split eye finding a pelt very akin to her own. White forepaws knead at the moss of her too - big nest, tiny pearl claws sinking into the green as if she might be able to drain the bloodstained mucus from her head into it through her paws. She wants to get up—to go see @MIDNIGHTPAW. lingering around the dark doorway, backlit with a sun she's rarely felt, but her limbs are shivering and weak.
Nausea curdles in her belly, and her fever - ridden mind can't decide if it's a symptom of illness or the yellow - bellied snake of discontent at her inability to propel herself forwards, the way so many other cats seem able to do. Wolf and Cotton are gone for now, presumably out in the somewhere else, and it is only her and the lingering shape, features blurred by the mucus crusting at her eyes. Feeble as she is, the kit is forced to wait for her breathing to ease before she shout in a hoarse peal at the stranger, " 'M hot! "
" Hot, " she pants between her milk - fangs, waves of feverish heat rolling over her black - and - white pelt. Her head feels impossibly heavy, blood - swollen and overripe, as she lifts it—but lift it she does, her split eye finding a pelt very akin to her own. White forepaws knead at the moss of her too - big nest, tiny pearl claws sinking into the green as if she might be able to drain the bloodstained mucus from her head into it through her paws. She wants to get up—to go see @MIDNIGHTPAW. lingering around the dark doorway, backlit with a sun she's rarely felt, but her limbs are shivering and weak.
Nausea curdles in her belly, and her fever - ridden mind can't decide if it's a symptom of illness or the yellow - bellied snake of discontent at her inability to propel herself forwards, the way so many other cats seem able to do. Wolf and Cotton are gone for now, presumably out in the somewhere else, and it is only her and the lingering shape, features blurred by the mucus crusting at her eyes. Feeble as she is, the kit is forced to wait for her breathing to ease before she shout in a hoarse peal at the stranger, " 'M hot! "