Let My Body Fail (closed)

Fire burned in Minkstream's lungs, sounds brushing at his ears from seemingly far away as he drifted, half awake, half... not. The fever had died down to embers under the paws of the medicine cats, the stomach flipping less lurching, but still that burning. He was dimly aware of the moss underneath him, and the smell of a familiar pelt nearby - one he'd missed - but the rest rose and fell like a river, his nose coming up briefly for air before sinking under again. Lights played against the surface, faint lights, and he kept his eyes on them, on the sparkles up on the underside of the waves, beaming into his eyes.

"If you're in such a rush to meet your own demise feel free to attack StarClan the next time they show up - I am under no such implication!"

It sparkled like blood, the surface above, and burned like fire, like fox's teeth in his throat. A dark shape with pointed ears and yellow eyes growled at him, light flashing on the foam dribbling from its jaws, reaching forward towards him, looming above. A body at its paws, a limp dilute calico, her life stolen.

Blood dripped from his paws, red speckles.

He broke the surface with a gasp for air, his sides heaving. Someone coughed violently, and he dimly realized it was him as the hazy black-edged half-dreams faded. Gummy eyes blinked as he raised his head, his gaze seeking out and finding Batbite beside him. A claw scratched at his heart to see her in the same state as him, her flanks rising and falling with a slightly erratic rhythm, as if she would break out into a coughing fit at any moment. They'd been here already for... how... how long had it been? To his foggy mind it felt like an age of nightmares. Had it been the last sunrise?

Bat.... He closed his eyes and gently nudged his burning nose into her fur, a different burning sensation rising in his throat with a lump. Not her too. Don't you dare take her, you starry monsters.

StarClan.... the Righteous Few.

A silent growl vibrated his throat for a moment, Rainstrike's words drifting back to his mind. If only he could.... but even as he'd wandered through the territory, piecing together the spots where they patrolled, he hadn't actually seen them. A brief scent was all he'd caught, and that could have been from anything. Somebody needs to do something.... The idea had been growing for a while now, taking shape as it dangled in front of him like a poisonous berry, red as a drop of blood.

He and Batbite might not last another couple of sunrises. He had to do something while he still could, had to avenge them.... all those who had died because of these foxes in cat pelts.

He breathed once more into Batbite's fur, his lungs still flaming as the idea resolved in his mind into a certainty.

I'm sorry, Bat.

Gently, he drew away from her, trying not to let his limbs tremble too much as he shakily drew himself to his paws and padded as softly as possible towards the entrance of the elder's den, murmuring to the cat currently tending to the sick, "Dirtplace."

Hopefully he didn't look sick enough that they would follow him out just to make sure he was okay, but his legs held him up alright as he walked out into the moonlit camp, and he slipped out into the night, passing by dirtplace without a glance into the dark. His lungs burned, and he longed to give into the coughing fit building up in his chest, but... Can't give it away now. Can't let them hear.

The cool forest floor met his burning paws as he padded out into the dark, twisted shapes of trees rising up to the sky. Too late to go back now. He had to carry on. For Bat and all the others who had and would die.

Batbite shifted slightly, eyes blinking open in her mate's absence. The pain hadn't gone away, and neither had the coughs, but she could at least process her own thoughts through it now. It was bearable, if only from being all she'd felt for the past couple days. And the conclusions she came to weren't ones she liked, remembering their past and whispered talks about the cats who had caused this. He'd expressed a desire for vengeance - and, well, she wanted some vengeance of her own by now; but in their current states they couldn't do anything at all.

She rose to her paws, shaky but able, and slowly edged her way to the entrance; looking at their caretaker with equal parts concern and curiosity. Her voice was faded from coughing and overall disuse, but at least it was intelligible. The question came out as a whisper, but that was alright as long as it came out at all. "Where did he go? Tell me. What did he say?"

It took a great deal of effort to stay sitting where she was, to not collapse as she waited for a response - but oh, stars, if her mate was going to get himself killed he wasn't about to do it alone.

Willowpaw blinked at the strange, sick cat that was Minkstream. Frowning a bit as he said something about the dirt place, she let him leave, keeping an eye on his departing form...

TIME SKIP

“Where did he go? What did he say?” Batbite asked softly. Willowpaw knew that she was Minkstream’s mate, so she told her. “He said something about Dirtplace...but I think he went further away from Dirtplace. You should talk to Mossbloom. I’m sorry if I’m not much of a help.”

Batbite nodded slowly, shuffling out of the den slowly. "If he doesn't need her now, he will when I'm through," she muttered to herself. "The mouse-brain!" She didn't move far, just enough to call out, "Moss! Mossbloom!", without rousing the other sick cats.

Her voice was louder now, as a result of her conscious efforts, but still overall faded. Hopefully it was enough to catch the medicine cat's attention.

Willowpaw, seeing how weak Batbite was, decided to help her. “Okay, no yelling. It’ll make your condition worse.” She nudged Batbite towards the nest, before yelling, “MOSSBLOOM!” Willowpaw cringed at her own loud voice. She normally wasn’t that loud at all.

Mossbloom's face scrunched as her ears swiveled, swearing she had heard her name being called faintly. This was confirmed only heartbeats later when Willowpaw's voice called out. The medicine cat hurried over, certain that the apprentice would only call so loud in certain, special occasions. Rushing to the origin of the voice, she burst into the elder's den a little frantically. Had something else happened? Had their conditions worsened farther? Her eyes landed on an empty nest then on Willowpaw and Batbite. Green eyes filled with dismay, she mewed softly. "Is everything okay? Where is Minkstream?"

Willowpaw shuddered slightly. “When I was tending to the cats...well...Minkstream hurried over and told me something likd “Dirtplace”.  I thought that I would check up on him by bringing him back, but he didn’t come back. I suspect he went somewhere further away than Dirtplace, and with his condition like this...I’m afraid that he won’t make it wherever he’s going.” She dropped her head, sadly. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying attention, it’s my fault I didn’t stop him, I—” Willowpaw’s voice caught in her throat.

"He's spoken before about attacking the StarClan cats. So let's go get him, before he does something even more mouse-brained," Batbite spoke up again. She hadn't returned to her nest, instead stubbornly staying on her feet - this was her mate's poor decision, and so she felt obligated to help. "He'll listen, I think, if I tell him to turn around. I don't know if he will, to anyone else." She knew, on some level, that she wouldn't listen to anyone else, if it were her in that position. Maybe Oakstar, but he was gone now; maybe her brothers, but they were truly gone. Minkstream, though... Well, Strom had her heart in his paws. She could only hope that her logic was as sound as it felt.

Her eyes narrowed as Willowpaw told her what had happened, and she sighed exasperatedly. "I think that tom may be deaf.... First at Dacedream's vigil, now going against specific orders to stay in camp.... This is absolutely not your fault, Willowpaw. You're not expected to babysit any cat, especially a warrior who knows better." She looked to Batbite before continuing. " I apologize, I know he's your mate, but he's been an absolute mousebrain recently." Batbite spoke up again, and she frowned slightly. Her logic made sense, but Batbite was also not exactly in the best position to be out and about.... Perhaps if Minkstream had considered that before just leaving without a word instead of thinking only of himself they wouldn't even be having this conversation.

She sighed again, her green eyes worried at the well-being of her clanmates.... Both of them. "Can you stand? If you can stand up, with Willowpaw's help, and still be upright when I return with herbs, we'll go after him together. Otherwise, I'll track him myself and bring him back by his ears if that's what's needed. Willowpaw, please help Batbite stand, and lend her your support if she needs it. Either way, you're to remain here and keep an eye on the other sick cats, as well as help Daisybloom and let her know where I've gone. I'll be right back with herbs."

Turning, she hurried back to the medicine den and gathered chamomile, feverfew, mallow leaves, ragweed, and thyme. Hopefully that would give Batbite the strength she needed, and when they found him, which hopefully they would, Minkstream. She then returned to the elder's den to see how Batbite had done.

Willowpaw nodded, and pushed at Batbite’s left flank, helping her up. “Am I going too?” She asked Mossbloom. She wanted to, because she was probably the only healthy cat who could fight any predators or challenges that came in their way. “I can help.” It was her fault that she hadn’t taken care of the sick cats, It was her fault she let Minkstream sneak away.

"Moss is right, you know. It's not your fault that he's got bees in his brain," she told Willowpaw plainly, leaning slightly against the apprentice for support. It was good for Willowpaw, she supposed as she let out another cough, that she wasn't quite as tall or as large as the average warrior. Easier to keep upright. "Someone has to watch the rest of us. You're not doing a bad job, as far as I can tell."

She wasn't exactly better, but she was certainly still on her paws when Mossbloom returned - if only through sheer determination to find and return Minkstream. She wasn't going to let any illness keep her down, not when something like this needed to be done - it didn't matter if it was her lungs on fire or the forest around her, she would manage if she had to. "You're right, you know. He has been a total mouse-brain," she agreed, having been about to say so when Mossbloom first left. "I just hope he's alright... And that he listens to reason."

(ooc: I didn't quite know where to put this, but here's what mad Minkstream is doing in the meantime)

Minkstream stumbled through a forest of shadows, his paws shuffling through leaf-mold, damp and musty between curling tree roots and loose twigs. Wheezing breaths followed him in a chorus of sick-laden huffs, and he felt his throat burn with the effort, water gumming the edges of his eyes. Oddly, his head seemed almost stuffed with moss, carried by a hive of distantly buzzing bees that made it hard to think, to see. Dancing at the edges of his vision, strange shapes flickered in the darkness, and more than once he twitched his eyes over to see nothing but a stick or a bush.

But even a fuzzy head wouldn't let them catch him unaware. No, he wouldn't let them.

As he continued, stepping over roots, and warily padding through bushy hollows - following the paths through their reaching branches that scraped at his hot fur - reality started to... bend. A root sticking through the leaves ahead became a snake, its body limp as it waited, an imagined hiss echoing through his ears. He shook his head, feeling the world whirl. Need to find them. Need to make them pay. A tongue of flame separate from the fever burning at its pelt slowly rose in his heart, and Dacedream's body seemed to lie on the path in front of him, drawing him onwards, others joining her at the edges of his vision in the space between speckles of moonlight. The shadows became blood, and the silver light mocking stars scattered between. His own wheezing reminded him of the others still in the elder's den, his own mate among them, and a spark of pain jolted through his head as he gritted his teeth.

I'll find you, mangy star-pelted foxes. We'll see how you like it when your life's torn from you. I'll tear it from you. Every last red drop.

The mantra echoed in every panting breath, and he barely felt his lips drawing back over his teeth to expose a snarling smile through the haze. Spurring on his paws, he half-slipped down a small slope, a stumble sending a fuzzy jolt through his head. He just needed to stay on his feet and he'd be alright. Shouldn't be hard, his body felt as light as air, like he was fog, drifting through the forest, bent on finding the killers of all those close to him.

His legs wobbled, though, and stuttered a little as he stumbled around a giant, gnarled tree trunk, its surface dark and riddled with deep scars. A faint clacking noise caught at his ears, and it took him a moment to realize his body was shuddering. Shuddering with cold. Since when had the forest gotten cold? Wasn't it hot? His legs threatened to lock up, and he shook his pounding head, forcing them onwards.

The world tilted, weaving in and out. There was a solid feeling by his side, and he closed his eyes briefly, feeling the rough, dank bark of the tree rub against his face, the musty smell of it pressed against his nose. Have to keep going. How far had he gone? It couldn't be much further.

With an effort, he opened his eyes, wincing and nearly stumbling as dark shapes reeled in his vision. "Wh-where... where am I?" An unrecognizable rasp came from his maw, dim and watery in his ears. Someone had filled the forest with ringing, with deadened thumps. Was that his heart? Some part of him longed to let his body slide down the trunk, and fall to rest at its roots, let the dizziness and cold fade....

No!

Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself back upright, feeling like a part of his head was being ripped open at the movement, and took a trembling step forward. Another followed. Somewhere around him a sound hissed through the forest. There were sparkles of light, dancing.... Dark shadows leapt out between them, and he twitched to the side as the dark shape of a fox with foaming jaws loomed beside him, yellow eyes piercing. But no, even as he stumbled - nearly falling - no pain hit his side, no rasping bark split his head open.

He had to keep going, before... before he couldn't. Eyes watched him from the dark. Glowing glimmers coming out of the night. Little flickers spinning all around him.... He was light as air, he was flying, the ground fell out from beneath his paws. Something hit his head, pressed against his side. Head tumbling, all sense of direction lost, he found himself looking up, gasping breaths that were more panting coughs heaving at his sides. Eyes. So many glimmering, glittering eyes gazing down at him through that rough-edged hole above, above the closer silver-edged shapes of a bush's leaves right above his head.

The dizziness settled, the thumping of his heart and the rasping pulling at his ears suddenly painfully loud. The cold of the night, or maybe it was just all in his head, pierced his pelt with clarity. What am I doing? A new sound came through the rasping, a huffing, wheezing sound that quickly bloomed into hysterical laughter at the situation he was in. A sick cat trying to take on StarClan themselves! He walks barely a pawful of tree-lengths from camp and collapses. What were you thinking, mousebrain? Pain clawed again at his throat, a hacking, breathless cough replacing the gasped laughter.

What did you think you could do?

It seemed like all the mocking hordes of StarClan above were talking to him, their maws parted in grinning amusement at him, but it was just his head. His claws scraped weakly at the ground as he fought to get back to his paws, before falling back as darkness threatened at the corners of his vision. The utter toad-brained stupidity of his actions was starting to creep up on him, even through the burning anger that had started this whole mess, and he became acutely aware of the weak trembling of his limbs as he slowly pulled himself into a more comfortable position. They were too weak to support his weight, too weak to fight. If he'd wanted to throw away his life without a paw strike, he was on the fastest possible track to doing so.

It can't have been for nothing.... I have to... have to do something! With a monumental effort, half-dragging himself up the short trunk of the bush with a crackle of twigs and sticks, he somehow ended up back on his paws, his body swaying slightly before leaning up against it. The crackle of twigs in his ears seemed as loud as lightning, and he winced, wondering if that was all him, or there was something else out there. A part of him realized all the mangy StarClan cats would have to do was sneeze on him to knock him over, but the other part ignored all reason, his claws sliding out of their sheaths as much to steady him as to prepare for a fight.

Pleased, but also nervous to see Batbite still standing shakily when she returned, Mossbloom offered a portion of the herbs to the she-cat. "Batbite is right. Daisybloom is out at the moment, so until she returns I'm relying on you to keep an eye on the others. She shouldn't be long. Please let her know where we've gone, and not to worry. I'm counting on you, okay Willowpaw?" Mossbloom touched her nose to the apprentice's head before looking back to Batbite. Moving to take the support of her body from Willowpaw, she paused as Batbite spoke and brushed her tail over the she-cat's back. "I hope so too. I'm sure he'll be alright, but I'm afraid that once we get him back he'll have to stay in the medicine den with Daisybloom and I, so we can keep a closer eye on him. You're welcome to join us, I'll have Daisy separate two of the nests so you can have your own corner if you'd like."

With a final nod to Willowpaw, she aided Batbite out of camp as quickly as her condition would allow, offering her support and assistance without hesitation as they made their way into the territory. Thankfully, the stench of sickness made a clear path to follow once they found it near the Dirtplace, and they followed it immediately. Given Minkstream's condition, he wouldn't have gone too far without wearing himself out, but adrenaline and a thirst for revenge was a strange beast that let cats go far past their normal limits. Still though, he was alone, and would be slower regardless considering he didn't have the support of an able-bodied cat. Before long she saw disturbances in the dirt on the path ahead, and claw marks scoring a bush. The scent was stronger now too, and was that a figure just ahead?

Willowpaw nodded, slightly disappointed, but knowing that someone had to guard the rest of the cats. She didn’t want anyone to end up like Minkstream. “I hope that he’ll be okay...” She dipped her head. “Best of luck. Hopefully, you’re able to track him down before some Twoleg or other predators get to him.”

"That would be nice," Batbite murmured, licking up the offered herbs. She'd never come around to the taste of any of them, really, but she understood the necessity. It did make her wonder, idly, how Mossbloom stood it. "I'm never letting that mouse-brained idiot out of my sight again." It was an empty threat, most likely - but she could hold it true until they were no longer ill, at least, and a while after if it taught him a lesson. Even if that lesson was less don't do stupid things and more don't do stupid things without telling your mate first, which had honestly felt like a common sense rule before all this.

She followed along in silence after that, grateful for her friend's support, until they reached what appeared to be a figure in the near distance. She didn't waste words, this time, instead gesturing to the figure with her tail. "I think that's him, just over there."