Post by Phoenix on Jul 13, 2018 0:53:39 GMT -5
when we were young
we were the ones, the kings and queens
oh yeah, we ruled the world
The evening sky was colored in pastels and so beautiful that looking at it made him want to be sick. Or perhaps, Gustclaw thought, it wasn't just the sunset. Nausea had been a constant companion for so long that he found himself thinking back to the days of his former health with a reminiscent air befitting only of old cats and Mudpelt. It was pathetic. The silver tabby huffed out a sigh that soon morphed into a rattling cough, tail twitching angrily – the only part of him that wasn’t sore for some reason or another – as he cursed once again. This was not how he had imagined his life going. Certainly kits and a beautiful mate had an air of inevitably to them, particularly when one was as handsome as he was, but never could he have predicted that he would find himself with both only to be ripped away from them so soon after.
And he would be ripped away, the warrior thought bitterly, though no one had confirmed it. They didn’t have to; anyone with two functioning eyes and a nose knew – even Blazefang, as thickheaded as he was, could tell, but then, his brother knew all about dying.
Sprawled on his side, he sighed again from where he lay in the entrance of the medicine cat’s den. Peeling his gaze away from the pale pinks and oranges, he slowly forced his protesting limbs under him as he heaved himself onto legs that seemed alien to him in their frailty. His tail lashed behind him again, and he pretended that it was purely out of frustration and not out of a need to balance himself. The entire situation was stupid and unnecessary, and he was never going to forgive himself for it. When leaf-bare gave way to new-leaf, he had first found himself the victim of a lingering illness – one that had initially made life unbearable but had, over time, faded to a manageable level of misery – but it was his utterly mousebrained decision to eat a piece of crowfood that had the vultures begin to circle. It had seemed obvious to him that he would offer the prime pieces of prey to his mate and the mother of his kits while he took the slightly spoiled bits for himself; his overtaxed immune system, however, disagreed.
”I’ve gotta—gotta—“ Jaws clamped shut against the sudden bout of nausea that had spurred him to his feet, Gustclaw forced leaden legs to carry him out of camp, absolutely refusing to make Kindleflare’s den any more of a mess than he already had. If her mentor had been the caretaker, he would not have made such an effort to be so thoughtful, but he liked the stammering she-cat and besides, Cloudyfeather would be disappointed if he was ever that inconsiderate. Painfully acidic, the bile that landed on the ground just outside camp was more liquid than anything else, and as he tried to clear his mouth of the disgusting taste, Gustclaw was bitterly surprised that he still had anything left in him to expel. Head spinning slightly, he glared down at the offending mess. Liquids seemed to travel right through him, and prey never stayed down anymore. Even the herbs that Kindleflare had initially tried to ply him with barely had any effect – that is, if he didn’t spew them up before they even had time to work. Throughout the entire experience, the feeling that he would get better if only he could settle his stomach enough to eat and drink just a little bit plagued him like a stubborn kit. It was infuriating.
The sudden dizziness that always struck when he stood for too long did not help with those particular feelings of inadequacy. Carefully, Gustclaw walked a little further away, refusing to ask for help as he moved– he was not swaying, thank you very much, he just thought that here would be a good place for a rest, that was all – before settling down with another grunt. When had so few steps become so exhausting? He was so tired of being tired. And it was too quiet. ”I’m beginning to see why – you like the elder’s den – so – so much,” Gustclaw said between coughs, turning to look at Blazefang. ”It’s a lot easier – laying around all day. Lazy lump – like you must – love having so much time – to sleep.”
And he would be ripped away, the warrior thought bitterly, though no one had confirmed it. They didn’t have to; anyone with two functioning eyes and a nose knew – even Blazefang, as thickheaded as he was, could tell, but then, his brother knew all about dying.
Sprawled on his side, he sighed again from where he lay in the entrance of the medicine cat’s den. Peeling his gaze away from the pale pinks and oranges, he slowly forced his protesting limbs under him as he heaved himself onto legs that seemed alien to him in their frailty. His tail lashed behind him again, and he pretended that it was purely out of frustration and not out of a need to balance himself. The entire situation was stupid and unnecessary, and he was never going to forgive himself for it. When leaf-bare gave way to new-leaf, he had first found himself the victim of a lingering illness – one that had initially made life unbearable but had, over time, faded to a manageable level of misery – but it was his utterly mousebrained decision to eat a piece of crowfood that had the vultures begin to circle. It had seemed obvious to him that he would offer the prime pieces of prey to his mate and the mother of his kits while he took the slightly spoiled bits for himself; his overtaxed immune system, however, disagreed.
”I’ve gotta—gotta—“ Jaws clamped shut against the sudden bout of nausea that had spurred him to his feet, Gustclaw forced leaden legs to carry him out of camp, absolutely refusing to make Kindleflare’s den any more of a mess than he already had. If her mentor had been the caretaker, he would not have made such an effort to be so thoughtful, but he liked the stammering she-cat and besides, Cloudyfeather would be disappointed if he was ever that inconsiderate. Painfully acidic, the bile that landed on the ground just outside camp was more liquid than anything else, and as he tried to clear his mouth of the disgusting taste, Gustclaw was bitterly surprised that he still had anything left in him to expel. Head spinning slightly, he glared down at the offending mess. Liquids seemed to travel right through him, and prey never stayed down anymore. Even the herbs that Kindleflare had initially tried to ply him with barely had any effect – that is, if he didn’t spew them up before they even had time to work. Throughout the entire experience, the feeling that he would get better if only he could settle his stomach enough to eat and drink just a little bit plagued him like a stubborn kit. It was infuriating.
The sudden dizziness that always struck when he stood for too long did not help with those particular feelings of inadequacy. Carefully, Gustclaw walked a little further away, refusing to ask for help as he moved– he was not swaying, thank you very much, he just thought that here would be a good place for a rest, that was all – before settling down with another grunt. When had so few steps become so exhausting? He was so tired of being tired. And it was too quiet. ”I’m beginning to see why – you like the elder’s den – so – so much,” Gustclaw said between coughs, turning to look at Blazefang. ”It’s a lot easier – laying around all day. Lazy lump – like you must – love having so much time – to sleep.”
wish i could relive every single word