shattered like glass [Fawnshine]

In such moments where illness spread among the cats and raged on, Fawnshine knew her duties came more important now than anytime else. Responsibility clouded her mind in thought, too far having to indulge and force herself in those crucial tasks she long has gotten used to—to the point that she forgot her own hunger.

Yet when she found a broken, ill-ridden Firefly stumbling into her den and her stubborn front collapsing in feeble, broken sobs; she found herself too stunned to react logically. It wasn't until a moment later that she blinked out of her temporary idiocy; remembering that she was to not daze off but instead rush to aid the enervated she-cat. "I'm here, shh. You're alright," Fawnshine whispered to the she-cat, helping to guide her onto the nearby moss bed for rest.

Comforting was never her strong suit. Most of the time, it was Comfreyheart, her sister—or Mottlestar, or Echosong; whoever was more emotionally available and experienced to provide that for others. To heal, or to necessarily 'comfort' and provide aid, in this case; was simply medicinal cat duty to her. She only learned such comforts through observing their natural kindness. Although Fawnshine never personally knew Firefly that well, she could lend some sympathy in understanding for grieving the deaths of fellow loved ones. It was a feeling she knew all too well.

Reaching over for some juniper berries stashed in the cracked holes of the cave, she gingerly nipped a few berries out and set them in front of Firefly. "Here," Fawnshine whispered, urging them to her, "These will help to ease you, and your breathing. Take your time, Firefly." Just as she pulled away—only then did she truly take notice of the thick crust building up on the poor molly's eyes. Heterochromia eyes widened in sudden realization; fear and anticipation ignited in her at the possible theory of Firefly being connected to the prophecy she'd received.

"Firefly... The crust on your eyes—have you been experiencing anything else unusual from normal sickness?" She questioned, though gingerly, knowing the she-cat's fragile mental state as of current. It was just a theory; a coincidence, perhaps. But she'd be a fool to take risks of ignorance.

Fawnshine frowned, concern evident through her facial expressions as she heard Firefly clarify her experienced symptoms. Trouble breathing, coughing, exhaustion, and increased temperature, along with headaches. Any inexperienced medicine cats, or apprentice-in-training would've easily diagnosed it as early whitecough/greencough; but the she-cat was no beginner. Through moons of experience, she knew better always than to dismiss a problem without thorough inspection—consequentially as the result of her own ignorant mishaps that served as a constant reminder for the present.

Crushing catmint and coltsfoot together along with a mix of honey and water to form a pulp, she gently urged the mixture to Firefly. "Here, please have some of these for now. It may not necessarily cure your symptoms, but it'll definitely help you feel much more at ease for some time." Fawnshine smiled, attempting to mask the concern behind her eyes with a kind gaze. "As too much herb usage all at once might upset your stomach; if you're still feeling uncomfortable, please come visit my den again and I can give you some feverfew or poppy seeds if needed. In the case that your throat still hurts after that, I can give you some tansy to soothe the soreness."

The she-cat settled herself in front of Firefly, her gaze now serious, but not without the trademark look of concern that carried with each medicine cat through generations. "We can try treating your illness as every other fever/sickness for now, but if the symptoms remain—I promise I'll try finding a more suitable approach to cure it." If anything, having more clues about the possible sickness that Firefly was experiencing would help her with StarClan's given prophecies and visions more. But for now, as always; her clanmates' health stood first priority.