sensitive topics TALKING TO MYSELF [infection]

[SANDPELT]

ꕀꕀ Losing an eye isn’t fun, Sandpaw has decided. He can’t do anything. No hunting, no patrolling, no sparring… he’s useless. He feels useless, and more unsightly than ever before—he knows that the flowers usually decorating his pelt have been wilted, but being unable to leave camp means that he hasn’t gotten the chance to collect more. And grooming his dull, disheveled pelt seems pointless when he knows that he probably looks hideous anyway. The recovery itself is awful, too; the place where his eye once was is horribly itchy, and no amount of scraping or scratching seems to make it feel better. He’s been ordered not to scratch at it, but it’s driving him mad.

Spending yet another day lying about and being wholly useless is a pathetic way to live, but Sandpaw doesn’t have many other options. His eye (or rather, lack thereof) is itching again, but this time it’s hurting as well. He rises from where he’d been resting, a frown etched across his muzzle. "Oww," the tom complains, lifting a paw to rub around the wound. When he touches his face, though, he flinches, withdrawing his paw immediately. He’d hardly put any pressure on it, and yet it feels as though he’d done something harsh like slamming his paw into his face. His face feels… strangely warm, too. None of this… none of this is right.

There’s no one nearby, only the cats who linger about camp either resting or doing their duties. He looks around the camp for Moonpaw—Moonbeam—but can’t see the flash of pale fur anywhere. "I think… I think something’s wrong."​

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[Moonbeam]

She didn't want to admit it, but Sandpaw was annoying her. She knew that he was upset, that he felt useless and didn't want to be bothered or bother her as much as possible but it had made it hard to do her job. Constantly turning away when she needed to check on the wound, rubbing at it when he was told not to, and due to his age, training, and general size overall it wasn't like she'd be able to force him to do anything and so eventually she had to pick her own battles and had given up. Had she known that it was partly because he thought himself ugly now she would have cuffed him over the ears and dragged a warrior into her den to hold him down while she changed bandages and put poultices on the fresh wound.

She'd been out, gathering what she could while cats were healing now that Shellkit was on the mend, paws moving within the water near the entrance to camp before reeds parted and she paused upon seeing Sandpaw out in camp. So long as he was simply getting something to eat or drink she didn't mind - he was almost old enough to be a warrior, therefore old enough to listen to those instructions she could hope - but when she saw the look on his face it caused a frown to crease onto usual softer face. Carefully she moved forward towards the other before nose wrinkled as she neared, the smell of what she knew to be the start of infection reaching nostrils before she looked to the other. "Let me see." She would wait for the apprentice to comply then, whether it be moving back to her den or simply allowing her to look here. If he was stubborn once more and didn't allow her to look she'd make getting a warrior to help her mission then.

A STRAWBERRY AVALANCHE ꕥ CRASHED OVER ME

• --
• 
  MEDICINE CAT;
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ FLESH WOUNDS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ INFECTIONS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ ACHES & PAINS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ ILLNESS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ BREATHING ISSUES
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ TRAVELING HERBS
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ BROKEN BONES
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ KITTING
  — ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ POISONS
• 
  ꕥ SH white masking cinnamon torbie w/orange eyes & small ears
  ꕥ speaks softly & often found humming
  ꕥ 12 moons old; ages the 17th every month
  ꕥ homosexual homoromantic ; interested in beepaw & redacted
  ꕥ currently mentoring none
  ꕥ easy to befriend/interact with ; hard to anger/upset
  ꕥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ꕥ easy in combat unless in water, focuses on defensive tactics
  ꕥ peaceful powerplay allowed

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[Gladefrost]

" Nothing is going to be fine if you keep disobeying what Moonbeam told you. " Troutsnout would respond with a sigh, as she noted Sandpaw nonstop touching his wound or aggravating Moonpaw (at the time) with his actions. Anyone who'd been in the medicine den or around the two every time Sandpaw started messing with the wound from his eye or other injuries, it was easy to tell Moonbeam was losing her patience. " Do you need me to get anything for you, Moonbeam? " The spotted feline would inquire with a tilt of her head, and a side glance at Sandpaw which causes a sigh to leave her lips.

Trout had felt the same way when she collapsed with her high fever, yet she didn't want to cause more work for Moonbeam and graciously listened to the pale medicine cat. The words of Foxtail and Slateheart repeated those four days in the dim lit den ranging from 'I wish you cared for yourself just as you did others' and the statement of enjoying the little moments of life. Her dark ears twitch and a scrunch of her nose after the putrid scent starting to come from the sandy toned apprentice. " Eugh. You really need to listen to Moonbeam and stop touching that. It could lead to worst damage if you keep touching it. "
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