- Jun 14, 2024
- 26
- 8
- 3
The medicine den is an unfamiliar place. His life has been defined by unfamiliarity, though, so he ought not be surrpised. First, the artificial home of his Twoleg's den, already a memory growing blurred at its edges; then the raw briefness of the Thunderpath; then camp in its ferns and sunlight, suddenly turned sharp - edged and poisonous. And now here . . . here, in this medicinal - scented strangeness, fern - ringed clearing with the soft rippling of a crystalline pool, from which he greatly longs to drink, to cleanse bile - burn from his throat.
He nearly gets up to do it, and then fear ripples down his spine, the fear of undeserving; of @GENTLESTORM descending in a cloud of white, his kind face rumpled in anger that a kittypet would dare to take water meant for ThunderClan warriors. He is already taking up space meant for them, after all, sitting in the herbal dim to ensure that one single bite of squirrel had not put an end to him, cut him clean like a thread. Ivorykit is somewhere nearby; she may be getting checked up on by Gentlestorm, he thinks.
He is not sure, though; the day has been a blur.
His throat cramps again, the seams of his mouth tasting of yarrow and vomit, and he fights off tears once more. His eyes are sore with the want to cry, but dry from his arduous efforts to restrain the impulse. He cannot help but release a small sniffle into the gloom.