Migraines, as Raf had come to find out, weren't just any little headache.
As he approached the castle the familiar pain occurred once more, yet this time remained for an extended period of time. Like the feeling of a drill, it pierced through his head and moved to the forefront to exude a strong pressure on his skull; an unbearable, agonising, and unknown feeling.
Stumbling to a halt, Raf's forelegs folded, and he collapsed quite ungracefully. That wasn’t his biggest concern though, since a moment later he coughed, releasing blood from his maw as it scratched through his throat, lung muscles working furiously to keep his breathing going as the fit continued. More blood, the crimson fluid staining the dirt in front of him, and staining his orangey fur as the fox bared his teeth and flicked out his tongue with a shiver at the metallic taste. He should be used to it, seeing as he was surrounded on a daily basis by the very material the adjective came from, yet it appeared to be very different when coming from his very body.
As the moment eventually passed he got up, his throat, stomach, lungs and pretty much every organ still burning as he looked around cautiously. Then rapidly scattering some dust and grass over the fluid on the ground in an attempt to hide it, the male shakily got to his paws continued his way up to the camp. They didn’t need to know; nobody needed to know. Uncertainty sweeping through his already weak body, Rafael stopped once more and sat down, eyes downcast to the ground.