Here Comes the Storming (closed)

"I'm already feeling better." A wincing grunt escaping his maw belied those words as he stumbled slightly, a skittering clatter of loose rocks dancing ahead of him down the path. Better was a relative term. Technically his head didn't feel like it was going to explode at every movement anymore - just split in two; and his lungs - while still feeling bruised - could at least drag in air.

That probably wouldn't get him out of visiting the medicine den.

He forced himself not to wince again as they finally stepped down to the ravine floor, trying not to lean too hard on Bat. "I guess there's no way I'm getting off without getting checked over, is there?"

Dovefrost's green eyes were staring down the piece of prey in front of him. He needed to eat but he hadn't quite felt like it yet. His appetite wasn't quite there but the hunger was, putting him in a weird situation.

The clattering of loose rocks as they fell caught the white tom's attention as he turned to look at the entrance of camp. His eyes falling on his leader and deputy, the former clearing leaning on the other. As the two reached the bottom floor, Dovefrost caught what Minkstream was saying. That was certainly his cue. "No I don't think so." The tom said. "Even if you told me not too."

"Yeah, not a chance." Batbite narrowed her eyes; her expression betraying concern and annoyance in equal measure. "If you even think about trying to get out of this, I'll hold you down myself." Turning her gaze to the medicine cat, she gestured to her mate. "Sorry to inconvenience you, Dovefrost, but this stubborn mouse-brain went and dropped himself out of a tree. He's definitely not fine, don't let him lie to you."

A voice that wasn't Bat's replied to his question, and Minkstream lifted his head, squinting his eyes against the light that speared them and the extra throbbing the motion brought. Who...? The words registered, along with a sudden twinge of memory that felt vaguely like thorns pricking at his mind, and his eyes widened. Oh frogdung. The medicine cat apprentice, master of the medicine den, happened to be right there at the prey pile. Just as they were coming down into camp.

And just to put the pebble on top of the dam, he'd also heard that last comment. Great.

He grimaced slightly, letting out a quiet breath at his mate's reply and trying not to wince again, more at the concerned annoyance that simmered in her voice and every hair on her pelt than anything else. I don't blame her. I'd probably have forced her to ride on my back the whole way and dragged her in. If I could. Hmm, tree. Tree? Yes, he would probably be just as annoyed and overly concerned if she'd fallen out of a tree.

How had he fallen out of a tree?

What had they been doing?

...And why was the ravine reeling? Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, a vague sense of nausea swirling in his stomach now that they were still, his paws threatening to wobble and give out. "Alright, maybe I could use some herbs. But I'm not dying." Yet.

He clenched his teeth - lightly, though even that still sent a spike flashing through his head - and forced himself to remain standing. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was collapse on the ground, make the spinning ache in his head stop; the sick swirl in his stomach go away. Medicine den or here, doesn't matter. If he could just let the world fade for a few moments....