Arriving [SITEWIDE]

As with all things, the dawn had brought change, and miraculously, Tallshadow’s paws had brought him here. The warrior leaned heavily against Goldenpaw, but he was so thin the strain of holding up most of his weight would have been negligible. More uncomfortable would have been the sickly heat radiating in waves from his pelt. Tallshadow blinked through the hazy film around his eyes, their bright amber dulled and washed-out, unable to focus on anything but the fleeting sounds and disjointed colors pressing against his eye-lids. The golden fur against his side was warm as he slumped further against the steady bulk, it was welcomed as the light breeze sent another pulse of wracking shivers down his frame, so intense it felt like his bones were rattling together. “Heatherkit.” He mumbled into her fur, belatedly surprised at how broad her shoulders were. “Are you still upset with me?” His heart ached to think of her back turned to him, sniffling quietly. He hadn’t meant to push her over so hard, and Mistkit had only made it worse by bringing up the moss ball.

A sudden coughing fit grabbed him by the throat, and the lanky warrior stumbled sideways, front legs splayed out wide as he tried to keep his footing against the onslaught of rib-snapping coughs. His head was hung so low his muzzle was nearly shoved into the dirt, and it probably would have been if the ground wasn’t so far away. His whole pelt was a mess. Normally it fell gracefully over his hide in a golden ripple, short and pristine, but now it was dulled and patchy from a lack of grooming. The only reason he wasn’t losing clumps of it to the matting was thanks to Goldenpaw’s efforts. Goldenpaw? Or Goldenpetal? His ribs heaved, finally catching what little breath he could as the fit subsided. Each rickety gasp of air scraped past his lungs in a wheeze. Where was his mother? He shouldn’t be alone with Heatherkit, was Goldenpetal out hunting? Tallshadow’s large ears flattened back against his head as he gathered what little strength he could to look around.

The shimmer of light off the water was head-splitting. He remembered, hazily, from some far-off place that ached between his ribs. Goldenpetal didn’t come back, and neither did his littermates. They were sick. He was sick. Struck cold by horror, the tabby tom dragged himself back to Goldenpaw, pushing his head weakly against her shoulder. “Heatherkit.” He wheezed out in something close to a plea. “Don’t go into the den. You won’t come back.” He squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden dizziness, swaying unsteadily on his paws. ”Don’t leave.”