THAT OLD SINKING FEELING — TREATMENT

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── //this is a thread for those who are sick and at the badger set! kittens will not be here; they are staying in the meddie den :)

Wolfsong hopes that WindClan is better prepared this time for yellowcough. He knows what to expect, after all, and he began moving cats to quarantine much sooner given his experience, but it is still so very contagious. It has swept through their camp like the fires that ravaged it so few moons ago, though unlike the walls of flame, at least he can treat an illness. He is not completely helpless, even if he is still frustrated that the outbreak has progressed this far (and that he must face it with a completely new apprentice, appointed in the absence of a dear friend).

Celandinepaw must rise to the occasion. He will as well. He heads to the badger set with purpose, his stride brisk and without quarter, carrying a bundle of lungwort and moss with Celandinepaw in tow. It is a hollow of sickness. He catches, quite briefly, a flash of dark striped fur, there and gone in the blink of his eye. A memory more than ghost, though he would not be surprised if Weaselclaw did find a way to haunt this place.

Wolfsong steps inside, setting down his herbs. Later, he will bring strengthening remedies, but for now, the lungwort is most crucial. He inspects his clanmates with a frown, searching for those among them who are still mostly lucid, or, at the very least, awake.
​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 46 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTAR (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 and his own pregnancy, 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.

​

 

[BILBERRYPAW]

Wakefulness comes to Bilberrypaw just as unsteadily as sleep. Already the badger sett is dark and confined, but Bilberrypaw's broken rest is disturbed by a change to that—darker, tighter. His mismatched eyes pull themselves open without so much as a tired thought from Bilberrypaw—still curious, despite himself. Wolfsong has broken the thin light that filters down and, at his flank, Celandinepaw.

Bilberrypaw huffs a sound that should be morose but isn't too dissimilar from his breathing. He's certain that it is Wolfsong's fault that he is here and not at camp.

"My dad gave me a rock," Bilberrypaw pushes himself not into sitting, but into something between that and the prone position he had before. His voice edges on scolding, "But that isn't here right now." A breath, "And I have a sister too. But she isn't—" Another breath, "—she isn't here either. Her name's Dustpaw."

Slowly, Bilberrypaw lowers himself back down, satisfied that Wolfsong now understands all the things that Bilberrypaw has gone without now that he is here.​

windclan apprentice | black and white harlequin | six moons | tags​

 

[SHEEPPAW]

He feels on fire, his pawpads are slick with sour sweat. He can't move a muscle, he can't say a word without cringing from his hoarse - sounding voice. He has been dumped into a nest, within the confines of Windclan's medicine den walls. Herb - litter flutters with the irate thump of his tail, all while laying on his side with a frown twisting upon his face.

His memories are fuzzy, as though filtered through sand and dirt. The apprentice curls in closer to himself with a soft grumble, he wants his parents.

Sheeppaw pry open her eyes, it's like pressing a paw against a layer of dried mud. "I think... 'M d-dying. I-It's gross here." She grumbles, half - consciously and she is frustrated by the way her chest rattles. She felt gross all over, she wants to dunk herself in the river and wash off all the sickness. A large twitches towards Bilberrypaw's voice, he lets out a snort leave him.

His body prone in the nest, his head lolling to the side to face Wolfsong who has... arrived? Was he always there? "T-this... sss– stinks." Dull - blue eyes flared wide, glassy with the haze of illness trained onto the medicine cat.

⊹ ⏜ ۫ . 𝙎𝙉𝙊𝙊𝙕𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙇𝙊𝙐𝘿𝙎 ᶻ 𝘾𝘼𝙉 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙁𝙀𝙀𝙇 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙇𝘼𝙐𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝘽𝙐𝙄𝙇𝘿

•  
• no ref yet </3
• ( HEY! WHATCHA GOT? ) ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ SHEEPPAW. ╱ windclan apprentice.
  ⤷ amab ; HE / SHE ; not opposed to gendered terms
  ⸝⸝ CURRENTLY 9 MOONS OLD. AGES EVERY 29TH.
  ✶ undecided / not actively looking / open to puppy-crushes
  ✶ a lanky, longhaired black smoke with high white and blue eyes
  ✶ thoughts ; "Speech, B9D6F2" ; attacks only
  ✶ may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ✶ smells like night air & windblown heather
  — all opinions are ic
  
  → biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by calzone

​

 

[Vulturepaw]

˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖ Thinking is hard right now. All of the apprentice's energy is spent on breathing, a task which has never felt so difficult. In, out. In, out. This becomes the rhythm of their days.

Sleep comes fitfully, bleeds itself into wakefulness. "Mm," Vulturepaw mumbles, dragged from the half-sleeping state that has become far too familiar. The tiniest sliver of light has been blocked, two backlit golden forms at the entrance. His head is too full of swirling smoke to comprehend why.

Their ears tilt to listen to their brother's words, head lifting. He speaks insistently, pushing himself almost upwards. They hum in agreement, musing softly: "My ffh-fuh... My f-feather's not here either." If they're making requests, he would certainly like something soft.

Their head lolls, crashing down upon their paws. Speaking feels like so much effort, and yet they drag more words from their aching throat regardless. "Um. T-t-tell Dhh... Tell D-Dustpaw..." They swallow thickly, consider. They want Dustpaw here - but that's selfish. They miss her, but at least she's healthy. "I d-don't want her sick, okay?" His eyes search for someone's face in the dim, swimming between both healers without much purpose.

THERE ARE FLOWERS GROWING ALL AROUND ⛧ A MASSIVE ANIMAL INSIDE OF ME‎

• 

  
  
  "SPEECH"
  ​

• 
  VULTUREPAW ⛧ he / they, apprentice of windclan, six moons.
  ⭃ a spiky-furred dark tabby with amber eyes.
  ⭃ skittish and dour, with a superstitious sort of pessimism.
  ⭃ micheal x npc, adopted by periwinklebreeze. sibling to dustpaw and bilberrypaw.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── His gaze lands on the stirring Bilberrypaw first. The apprentice sees fit to....what, exactly? Inform Wolfsong of what waits for him away from this place? Of who stands to miss him should he die here? "And they will all still be there when you have recovered," he replies dryly before presenting Bilberrypaw with his dose of lungwort. "Eat that. If it is too bitter, I will bring you honey." His eye squints. "How do you feel, other than missing your rock? Sore throat? Too warm or too cold?"

Nearby, another apprentice shifts, but her condition is markedly worse than Bilberrypaw's. Wolfsong does not need to check whether she is fevered; her discomfort makes that clear, and he leaves Bilberrypaw for the time being to bring Sheeppaw both lungwort and feverfew, made damp by the moss he also carries. "Try to eat these," he coaxes after draping the moss over her paws. "And the moss may help remove some of the sick-stench." He pauses, surveying his face. "You are not dying. You are fighting this starforsaken sickness." Wolfsong will not permit Sheeppaw's death— he cannot. Even without Cottonsprig here to help him, even with Celandinepaw's novice's uncertainty.

He beckons said apprentice to join him as he weaves over to the weak Vulturepaw. Wolfsong frowns, but quickly shifts his features into a less negative concern. "I will tell her," he vows. "But if you eat these for me," he pauses to push lungwort and feverfew until they brush the apprentice's paws, "You will see her soon enough."
​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 46 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTAR (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 and his own pregnancy, 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.

​

 

[Quietcrow]

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ The chatter of cats brings Quietcrow out of his restless sleep, more tired than when he first closed his eyes. He raised his head; his blue eyes remained unfocused, stuck in a haze, looking at the two orange blurs walking about the tunnel. Either from the darkness of the tunnel or his feverish mind, he couldn't recognize them.

"Kestrel. Roost. Is that you?" Quietcrow croaked, rubbing his face with his paws. Wait, no, he was in Badgerset; they would be nowhere near the clans. Facing the blurs once more, their identities finally became clear. "Oh Wolfsong and Clementinepaw, sorry,,, I didn't recognize you," Quietcrow wheezed out.

He coughed to ease the pressure in his chest rustling the feathers tucked into his pelt. The tom looked at them with despair, he's been here too long. "If I could ask you a favor. Please put me out of my misery. I cannot be here any longer. " the young warrior muttered free of his usual talking issues, determined to get an easy way out. Surly cats who knew how to save lives could end them; then perhaps he could be free of his aching.

ooc Information

• ooc: —
• 

  Quietpaw — ･ he/him ･ moor runner ･Windclan ･ PENNED BY @Ghostunes!

  A timid mostly black tom with white markings on his chest and back. Note: often has short pauses in his speech when he talks. ​

 

[Vulturepaw]

˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖ Herbs are offered to Vulturepaw, and he stares at them blankly. His vision swims. Has he seen these before, out on the moors, he wonders? Has he trampled them carelessly underpaw? They look like any other plant, but they must hold some sort of power. Wolfsong's promise is convincing enough, at least, and their head bobs up and down slowly. "M'kay, if you p-promise..." They mumble, shooting a meaningful glance at the medicine cat.

The herbs are chewed sluggishly and reluctantly. They are bitter, just as promised. "Bleh," he whines softly upon swallowing.

Quietcrow's words perk their ears, furrow their face into a worried frown. "Noooo," he protests, quiet and near-tearful. A concerned gaze can't quite find the form of the other in the dim, but they address him nonetheless. "Y'gotta get b-buh... b-better too..." Vulturepaw lurches towards the medicine cats before they can move to the warrior, head lolling. An unsteady paw reaches to tap one of them for their attention, as his voice lowers to a secretive whisper. "I thhh-thuh... I think he needs some... some extra honey, okay?" Wet eyes blink at them pleadingly.

THERE ARE FLOWERS GROWING ALL AROUND ⛧ A MASSIVE ANIMAL INSIDE OF ME‎

• 

  
  
  "SPEECH"
  ​

• 
  VULTUREPAW ⛧ he / they, apprentice of windclan, seven moons.
  ⭃ a spiky-furred dark tabby with amber eyes.
  ⭃ skittish and dour, with a superstitious sort of pessimism.
  ⭃ micheal x npc, adopted by periwinklebreeze. sibling to dustpaw and bilberrypaw.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[BILBERRYPAW]

Wolfsong doesn't look properly contrite to Bilberrypaw's attempt at scolding, and rather he offers Bilberrypaw an unfamiliar plant. The scent is just strong enough for Bilberrypaw to associate it with medicine and his nose wrinkles in automatic displeasure. He needs to stay here instead of be at camp and he needs to eat what is probably a disgusting herb—both because of Wolfsong.

"It's too hot in here," Bilberrypaw whines in answer to Wolfsong's question. He doesn't eat the lungwort immediately, but instead pushes it in a slow circle in front of himself, "But I'm too cold. And..." And Bilberrypaw has a countless number of other complaints. Every ache in his chest and throat, every scratch of his dry eyes, every way his sluggish thoughts muddle before they leave his mouth—but a certain futility comes over Bilberrypaw. It will take an amount of energy to explain the depths of it that Bilberrypaw doesn't feel.

He makes a dismissive gesture and turns his attention to the lungwort with a frown. Slowly, like it might bite him in turn, Bilberrypaw takes the herb in his mouth. The texture is unfamiliar enough that Bilberrypaw needs to stamp down the immediate desire to cringe away from it. The taste is far more subtle than Bilberrypaw had thought it would be—bitter and sharp, but only faintly so. He doesn't need to fight as hard as he had thought he would have needed to in order to swallow it.

"Can I have honey too?" He asks after Vulturepaw, "Even though I didn't... need it?"​

windclan apprentice | black and white harlequin | seven moons | tags​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── His jaw tightens before he reminds himself that Quietcrow is simply ill, that his mind is affected by the plague that is known to wreak havoc on one's senses. "You do not know what you ask of me," he says eventually, fighting back the terseness from his voice as he shuffles a dose of lungwort toward Quietcrow's paws. There is no death he could give Quietcrow that would not live on miserably in this world; if he were to give him poison, he would have to first take him elsewhere, so that the other sick would not pay witness. But when Quietcrow would inevitably never return, and they would later learn of his death, would they not make the connection themselves? Would they not realize they saw him among his last moments, before Wolfsong killed him?

No, it is unthinkable.

"Eat this now, Quietcrow. You will feel better."

Nearby, he listens to Vulturepaw make a plea to Celandinepaw, but Wolfsong's gaze has returned to Bilberrypaw. Fortunately, the apprentice has eaten his lungwort without issue, though Vulturepaw's comment seems to have inspired some desire in him. "You may have some honey as well. It will be soothing for your throat— and perhaps a reward for taking the lungwort without complaint." A tired amusement colors his eye.

​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 46 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTAR (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 and his own pregnancy, 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.

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

It would be a dreamy feeling were it not so unpleasant. It seems an immutable thing — the ache of limbs, the suffering of lungs, the inability of the throat to expel the phlegm that just keeps coming. Scorchstorm has been in the badger sett for well over two weeks now, and she is just as tired as when she had first been ushered in, hardly more than a corpse on the backs of the cats who raised her.

Thankfully it does not seem that she will become a corpse in full anytime soon. She might have wanted to, in the wake of her thorough upbraiding by her superiors for not retiring to the medicine den in a timely fashion. But Wolfsong is saving her with the herbs she'd gathered so many moons ago.

She stirs at the sound of his voice, a canary call in the smoggy chamber. He delivers her a dose of lungwort and she draws it to herself, marveling at its bruised purples and pinks, its spotted leaves. Once upon a time, seeing it had filled her with a rush of desperate relief. Even now she can feel the shiver of cold mountain air, the pressure of the Clans' futures on her back in small dimples.

But it fades, as all things do, replaced with contemplation. What once had been a promise of good fortune now turns bitter. Bringing the lungwort home had not saved them all. Finding it at all had taken her sibling away from her. And it still did not prevent Rattleheart's death, or Bluepool's, and it did not bring Badgermoon back to her, and it did not sew any seeds of love. She scoffs. How could she even think about love now?

"Thank you," the flame-streaked molly rasps to her medicine cat. More than. He is one of the cats who raised her, who shaped her into the warrior she is now. Even if a dark part of her would rather refuse this treatment, she will not spurn it as Quietcrow does. She is not so miserable. A thoughtful silence as she chews and swallows her dose. Suddenly, she feels a need tugging at her arteries.

"I remember gathering it." The lungwort, she means. Her eyes glaze, xanthic and rheumy, misty with memory. "It was so cold, and everything was purple. And we were so happy. StarClan, we were so happy. I didn't think I'd worry about anyone ever again." And look at me now. Look at all of us now. How stupid was I? The rims of her eyes wet, but tears do not fall. Scorchstorm's gaze lingers in empty space. "Luckypaw carried so much." A round of coughs, and then she quiets. It seems her story ends there.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌 ✧

• ooc.
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 16 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

​

​