BE THE SERPENT [open - yellowcough]

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

    Illness and disease was something Stagheart was familiar with, but not through personal experience. He had seen cats fall ill before, the most notable being Bramblelight, having watched the fearsome behemoth slowly deteriorate day by day till his death. But he wouldn't be able to say he knew what it felt like, no. He was a relatively healthy cat, a youth with a strong immune system thanks to, what, frequent exercise? A good diet? Pure luck? Even as a kit he had been spared of most plagues that spread like wildfire across the clans come bareleaf, somehow managing to avoiding catching the sniffles despite others coughing around him.


    So, today was a different day. He remembered falling asleep easily, in a good mood, yet in the early hours of the morning when Stagheart was usually up and raring to go, he woke up feeling dreadfully groggy. The sight and smell of food would make his stomach churn, his throat ached terribly with every forced swallow. By some miracle he had managed to drag himself to the camp entrance to join in on the patrols, serpentine tail dragging behind his lugging pawsteps, a rare sight of the usually enthusiastic tom. It was only when he got there that he had to take a seat, groaning, burying his head in his paws. "The light hurts my eyes..." Stagheart mumbled to no one in particular, so focused on the constant ringing in his head that he didn't even notice just how hot he felt. The heat practically radiated from his quivering form, his evident agitation being the first sign of the delirium that was beginning to kick in.


    In all honestly, he really didn't want to go on the patrol this morning.

    BRAMBLEPAW

    SHADOWCLAN MCA / TAGS & INFO


    Of course Bramblepaw was awake. He rarely slept these days thanks to the nightmares. It was starting to effect his mood. Fatigue weighed heavy upon his paws, like anchors, and his eyes gleamed dully with exhaustion. But clearly, he wasn't the only one suffering. Judging by Stagheart's appearance and words, the child might even assume his unofficial mentor was getting sick. Oh no...getting sick. And he was a healer. What did he know about herbs? Uh...cobwebs for bleeding. Yes, that was it. But Stagheart wasn't bleeding. He was sick. Or at least, he was acting sick. What did one do for that?


    The youth approached the warrior with firm features, "What's wrong with you?" Bramblepaw inquired, before realizing he probably sounded a bit too harsh, especially towards someone he considered a friend. Gah, damn fatigue. "I mean...are you okay, lad?" The medicine cat apprentice corrected himself, adding a more gentle tone to his words. "If the light hurts yer eyes, you might be gettin' sick. Best to take the day off and rest, I'd think." Of course, what did he know? Nothing. But resting was good, right? And Stagheart worked hard. Maybe a day off would do the warrior some good. Of course, Bramblepaw did notice the unnatural heat radiating off the body of his friend. He frowned slightly. Did that mean fever? It had to, right? "You lay down, I'm goin' to get Oliveslip." The child mewed lightly, before trudging off toward the healer's den. "Oliveslip? Stagheart has a fever I...think? And also, he says the light hurts his eyes. Err...if I heard him right. He was kinda mumbling. I mean he was mumbling but uh...yeah." What did those symptoms add up to? Bramblepaw had no idea. Maybe Oliveslip would.


    OLIVESLIP

    Young as he was, Softkit knew what being sick was. Not that he'd ever personally experienced it... yet, at least. But he had certainly seen it before. It sounded awful, and it made him a little afraid of going near Oliveslip's den. He didn't want to cough all the time, or be really hot or really cold, or have a bad stomachache. That sounded gross. He wanted to go his whole life without knowing what any of that felt like.


    Softkit had posted himself near the early patrols, hoping as always that by some rare miracle, some warrior might ask about letting him go along with him. Just this once. He had decently high hopes for this morning; Stagheart was there, so maybe he would say something. Except the warrior didn't look like he felt too good. "Hey, what's wrong with Stagheart?" the kit asked, looking up at a warrior standing next to him. But the warrior didn't answer him, and he huffed. He wasn't invisible. He knew everyone could hear him. He watched as Bramblepaw examined him before disappearing to find Oliveslip. Good. She was smart, she would know exactly what was going on. Besides, it was Stagheart. It wasn't like it could be anything that bad. He was too good of a warrior for that.

    i am chemistry — tags






    ❝ But we're a million worlds apart.... ❞

    — Firedawn, Warrior of Shadowclan

    tags — storage — plotting — main

    Firedawn had been returning from a hunting patrol with some NPCs' when she heard one of them mention that Stagheart woke up less then himself this morning. Green eyes narrowed in concern, the she-cat wasn't surprised to find the young warrior laying in camp looking worse for wear. Handing her catches off to an npc, the red somali would trot quickly over to the small group and her nose would twitch as the smell of sickness hit her once she was close enough. "Bramblepaw is correct, you need to rest for today." The senior warrior would look down at Softkit and brushed her tail against the small one to offer reassurance, "He's caught a cold it seems. Don't get too close or else you'll catch it." Turning to Stagheart, the she-cat would touch his shoulder carefully with her nose, "Can you walk? We need to get you to the medicine cat den to keep the sickness contained. You may lean on me if you wish." Her tone was calm, comforting, not wanting to worry the other npcs present about sickness coming down on them amid everything else.




    ShadowClan apprentice | American Curl mix | brown and ginger tortoiseshell | tags


    It was rare that Brindlepaw got to witness illness. The path of medicine was not Brindlepaw's to follow, as curious as she was about it. Gingerpaw had walked her through most of the herbs, but the variety of differing uses each had quickly made much of the information blur together in her mind. She joins the small crowd around Stagheart, leans over him, unafraid of catching whatever he has. Places a paw to his side, as if attempting to rouse Stagheart from sleep. He just doesn't have enough strength, it looks like. There are herbs for that. She closes her eyes, can picture an even stack of dried, little leaves, can smell something sweet in a watery way.


    That had been the trouble when Gingerpaw had taught her. She knows the names of plants well enough when they are out on the territory, but it's as if the exist as something else entirely when they have been plucked. A daisy leaf only looks like a daisy leaf when it is attached to the flower. This trouble even existed with herbs that had distinctive parts. It was frustrating to not know something, even if Brindlepaw has accepted she is no medicine cat. Wait- is it daisy leaves she's picturing? No, no, they don't have that scent. Wait, the scent! What has that-? "Burnet," She says aloud, answering her own question.


    Unaware that this isn't a simple bought of lethargy due to some minor cold, Brindlepaw continues, "That's an herb for strength." She doesn't make any attempt to elaborate as to why she had decided to share such information. If Brindlepaw were medicine cat, she would give anyone who wasn't severely ill burnet, and then they'd be able to go about their days without being so... wilted. Oliveslip and Bramblepaw wouldn't do that, however, and so Brindlepaw made no move to explain her treatment ideas.


    "What's wrong with you?"


    A sigh escaped his parted lips, though probably not one others would be able to hear considering his head was still tucked tightly in between his paws, rose-hued nose pressing against the soil as if by some miracle it would cure of his pain. His head throbbed violently, a stubborn ringing in his ears, tears squeezing through his shut eye lids as his eyes continued to water for reasons he could not explain. By StarClan, they burned. "Sorry...uh, what- what did you say?" Stagheart murmured in a state of delirium, hesitantly lifting his head just enough to glance towards Bramblepaw, optics squinted as if looking at the medicine cat apprentice would turn him to stone. With a blurry mind clouding his conscience he didn't pick up on Bramblepaw's advise to rest, much rather focusing on trying not to sway from side to side. It felt as though, beneath his paws, the ground was gently shaking to and fro. Part of him knew that it wasn't, reassuring him that it was still, but his body did not listen.


    Words reached his ears in segments rather than complete sentences. Softkit's question hadn't been picked by his flattened ears either, nor did he not notice the child's presence. Instead, through a clouded lens, he saw his brother Sunkit. His mind battled itself - it couldn't be, surely not. He knew very well that his littermate was dead, that this was a mere hallucination. Or was it real? Was he waking up from a nightmare, waking up to a reality where he was still a kit, playing in the nursery with all the other children? "Sun- Sunkit? Is that you?" Stagheart stuttered, rapidly blinking like his life depended on it. No, no it wasn't. What in the name of StarClan was he saying? "Uh, sorry, ig- ignore me. I just thought-" Did I? Is Sunkit here?


    Finally, another warrior. Relief overwhelmed him though it did not wash away his aching joints and increasing temperature. For the first time he found himself begging to be excused from duties for the day, something that most definitely wasn't normal behaviour for the perfectionist. "Firedawn, may I sit out for today? I'm not feeling too great..." he frowned, hoarse tone laced with a pleading tone. "Yeah...I'd like that" It isn't about what you want, Stagheart. It's not about you. "Actually-" What are you doing? You need to rest.A growl began to erupt his throat, forged his own frustration provoked by his own contradicting thoughts. Was he bickering with himself? "Yeah, I can walk" It was a struggle, rising to his paws without exaggerating the nausea that made itself at home in his weakened form. Nevertheless Stagheart made it, inhaling and exhaling deep breaths to stabilise himself for a few moments before a paw made contact with his shoulder.


    At first the tawny warrior flinched, surprised by the touch against his heating frame. It took him three or four seconds to realise that this was Brindlepaw, almost like he was in a state of slow motion. She spoke of a herb, one that he wasn't familiar with (unsurprisingly) with the word barely making sense in his head. Bur-what? And how did she know? "Are you...calling me weak?" he snorted in a feeble attempt to joke in this situation, to lighten the mood. His own mood. In a way, it did sort of feel like being high on catnip, just with extra added discomfort and in the worst of hells. He knew very well what catnip felt like, having once accidentally stumbled upon a patch in ShadowClan territory then returning to camp in a complete trance.


    Actually, no, he would much rather prefer to be high on catnip again than go through whatever this was. He took that thought back. "I'm seeing dots..."