WHILE IT IS LIGHT \ raccoonstripe

[BERRYHEART]

Shadowed shapes blotted light, drifting past the doorway like pitch-dipped ghosts. Berryheart blinked slowly as he watched them, inkspots that bled across the light. He guessed, some hollow entertainment, who each spindly shape might be. What might be on their mind. Worry? Hunger? Both seemed likely emotions in this climate, though maybe he'd catch a glint of light upon the fangs of a smile, just maybe...

His apprntice did a good job of tending to wailing patients and plucking thorns from paws, so much so that the sight of someone lingering did not haul him to his paws. Not until he realised his apprentice was out, and he caught the coppery gaze of the loitering culprit- his littermate. There was something in his jaws- Berryheart's head beat like a heart, and he squeezed weary eyes shut, unable to appraise anything more from his brother. Pathetic, that he could not look... a healer, not yet healed of his own affliction. Frustration, and some... creeping, awful feeling...

Stripes stepped through, into the den. Though he did not look, he heard the shuffle of paws, and his ear flicked as if he was swatting a fly. "You shouldn't be in here." Berryheart's voice was stony as ever, exterior frozen, and yet weary all the same.

\ @RACCOONSTRIPE ​

PENNED BY PIN ☾​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

His brother is a pitiful, unwashed mass of tortoiseshell fur. A half-lidded green eye seeks him in the dimness of the den, dull and flat as the tone of his voice, like a stone rounded and smoothed by eons under water. Even the mouse does not tempt him from his nest. The den is thick and gray; sickness hangs on every tendril of fur, every stem, a miasma of greencough that will not clear. Raccoonstripe’s pelt prickles the moment he breaches the confines of Berryheart’s sanctuary—or is that what it is anymore? Has his sanctuary become his prison? StarClan forbid, his grave?

He nears on trepidatious paws. Every step brings him closer, but there is still a rift yawning between them. Raccoonstripe drops the mouse; it lands with a thud! between mismatched paws. "I know.” No, he shouldn’t be here. In fact, every ounce of survival instinct that still exists inside of him is firing, nervous, electric, frantic. Run, it says. Hold your breath. "You look like—” His mouth trembles, wavering from a forced smile into a frown writ in fury. "You look like you’ve a paw in the ground. What is it this time? What can it possibly be?”

Raccoonstripe takes a cautious step forward. The scent of sickness on his littermate’s breath is pungent. It seeps through tabby fur, thick, like the slime that floats atop stagnant water. "You survived the yellowcough. You will survive this. Eat.” His tone is hard. It’s one he might have used for his unruliest apprentices at their most disobedient. It’s unimpressed. It’s full of fear. "Eat this, and sit up, for StarClan’s sake.”

, ”​

​

 

[BERRYHEART]

I know, Stripes said, and he held bitter thoughts within himself- an instinctual answe of if you know, then why do you stay? But he said aloud nothing of the sort- for Berryheart believed he knew the answer. What other reason would there be? Logic and love bit at each other, battled in heads and hearts, leaving both raw and exhausted. He knew, for Stripes, he would likely do the same foolish errand-running, even if it wasn't his duty.

Hearing the thud of the mouse against the floor, Berryheart's eye braved the light again- weary pupils slid toward the sound, but he made no movement toward it. You look like you've a paw in the ground. What is it this time? "I don't do it on purpose," Berryheart murmured- words vaguely humorous, raked with illness' rasp.

His brother commanded him like he was a kit. Despite it all, a puff of almost-humour slipped through shambolic fangs. Mossy-green eyes slipped shut again, and he took in a crackling, laborious breath. "Greencough. I have catmint." Coughs stuttered through his form. "I can assure you, this illness won't kill me."

For a moment his world threatened to slip into sleep, but he felt Stripes' presence looming over him, and was kept awake by it. To waste this mouse would be criminal- awry eyes found the meal, and he inched himself toward it. At his own pace, of course... everything at his own place. After he took a bite from it, and made a point to chew and swallow as thoroughly as he could illustrate, he looked expectantly up at his littermate.​

PENNED BY PIN ☾​