sun-high calm (Open to WC)

Tallshadow saw the bright ripple of his sister’s pelt as she lay sunning herself in their temporary camp. He padded over, shaking stray bits of lavender out of his fur as he went. There was an ease in his painfully thin shoulders as he moved through the sunlight. “Has the noble hunter returned from terrorizing the rabbit population?” He purred in a deep rasp. The tabby tom stretched his ridiculously long legs out in front of him in a deep stretch, his claws sinking into the snow dusted ground.

He settled down with his back feet tucked under his belly, front paws relaxed in front of him, a perfect chin rest for later. His hip bones stuck up starkly from his golden pelt in his position, but his winter coat was finally starting to grow in, short, thick and shiny like before. He gave Goldengale a friendly blink, before giving in to a yawn, showing off all his sharp white teeth. “I’m thinking it’s time I make a nest out under the stars with everyone else.” His voice was quiet and a little rough, but it lacked the painful gasp of breath that normally accompanied every sentence. He wrinkled his nose slightly in distaste. “Time does not make the heart grow fonder when it comes to the medicine den.”

Tallshadow chuckled, licking Goldengale between the ears when she rolled over against him. It was nice, to be out in the sun again, to be free of that horrible cough. To be content in the knowledge that Sootstorm and Goldengale wouldn’t have to worry over him. He flicked his long tail over her nose. “You? scared? Maybe when hares fly.” But his eyes softened slightly in understanding. He laid his tail over her shoulder instead, and pressed his side into her thick fur.

“I know.” He said quietly, laying his chin on his paws. “I didn’t know what to do either. I hurt Sootstorm, I hurt you, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.” The golden tom flexed his claws into the dirt, even now the frustration, the helplessness, stung. The fear in Goldengale’s eyes. The grief that twisted Sootstorm’s face, like his father already believed him to be dead. Everything he had worked so hard to build, his strength, his speed, his skill, they had all crumbled away, and what was he with jutting bones and fever-hazed eyes, too confused to even recognize those closest to him? It was torture. He hoped in whatever plan the stars designed, sickness like that would not find him again. “But I made it, and I’m here now, and I'm not going anywhere you can’t follow, okay?” He offered a quiet, soothing purr, shoving every overflowing ounce of stubborn affection he had for his sister into the deep rumble.