I've Had a Dream for Quite Some Time (c)

Crocusp- Crocusfrost had a little bit of time to kill, her vigil just ending and the dawn rising upon the cats bunkered down. The flutter of excitement in the she-cat's chest never quite died down, but had decreased in its intensity as she reflected during the night of her new rank. When she was relieved of her vigil, she nearly went straight to bed, to take up Vinecrawler's nest and sleep before she'd head out to scout out the spot that she'd thought would be perfect for Thunderclan. But as she made her way, a small niggling thought made her paws stop, her thoughts going to Redsun - her scouting companion. He had gotten extremely sick near the end of their journey and seemed to be just as bad as Mottlestar, and she had left him in the dust near the end of it because they needed to find a good place to rest. Guilt made her heart drop a bit, and if he was aware enough she wanted to apologize. Making a detour, Crocusfrost scanned the area before she laid eyes on her familiar companion.

"Redsun...? How are you feeling?" She mewed meekly, unsure and feeling ever more guilty that she was bothering him when he needed to rest, but if delirium struck him then maybe he wouldn't remember and she could skedaddle away and not feel guilt for disturbing him.

Redsun felt like a pile of wet gravel. Unwilling to move yet physically unstable, not to mention heavy. He hadn't gained any sudden weight - quite the opposite, he knew, it probably wouldn't be until Newleaf that he could gain back what he had lost to starvation. So instead he must have gotten weaker. Pathetic, this was. There were long stretches of time where all he could feel was his blood pulsing through his body, the sound deafening in his ears. He could almost smell it too. No, wait, that was real. Like many of the other cats he too coughed up blood every now and again. That explained how the smell clung to him so readily.

So lost within his own mind he almost didn't notice Crocusfrost until it was too late. She was somehow doing a remarkable job of appearing small despite her considerable size. "H-" Phlegm coated his throat, causing his voice to come out like a crackle until he could clear it well enough. He still talked loud, but his range was more mellow than usual. "Hey, Crocusfrost! I'm, I'm going to get better soon, just you watch me. It'll pass soon enough!" The optimism sounded forced even to his own ears, but he had to speak it into existence. He wanted to support his clan during this time, support his mother. And relieve a bit of the burden from others' shoulders, including Crocusfrost's. He couldn't see through his duty to the end.

The fog in his mind swirled, guilt welled up in his chest. Some warrior he was. The she-cat in front of him had to play the part of the bigger cat before she'd even become a warrior, figuratively speaking. Literally too, but that wasn't the point. "I'm sorry that I couldn't keep going as a scout. I'm sorry that you're having to do so much so soon-" A sharp, dry cough shook him and he tucked his muzzle into his chest, frustration coloring the vertigo swimming in his head.

Crocus's gaze softened as Redsun spoke, how everything seemed to take so much energy out of him. "It's okay Redsun. For Thunderclan? I'd give the world." Softly, Crocusfrost reached a paw forward and cleaned Redsun's chin of any blood crusts and spit before withdrawing and immediately wiping her paw on the grass in mild disgust. "You must rest. Worry not for myself. I'm a big girl." Crocusfrost quipped, now moving on to fluff his nest a bit. "Is there... anything I can get you? A favourite prey?" any confidence that was built deflated as she looked away towards the prey pile, uncertain of herself and what she should be doing now.

‘She’s sweet.’ Despite her tough and imposing appearance, Redsun had to feel some warmth towards her genuine nature. No, perhaps it was because of it. He felt a bit of pride in being able to see a softer facet of her. She could handle herself, but that didn’t mean leaving other cats behind.

“I’m tired of eating whatever other starving predator we cross paths with. The novelty of it really wore off quickly. I’d love nothing more than a robin, but we can’t afford to be picky,” he offered her a half-smile. “Does the prey run better here at least, Crocusfrost? What does it look like? I haven’t had the opportunity to explore this place. Echosong’s been adamant that I don’t even try.” A self-deprecating purr turned into a stifled bout of coughing. He thought he had heard birdsong, but he knew his mind would make things up with this sickness. Part of him had wondered if the she-cat before him was actually there, before she’d wiped the sickness from his chin. That at least felt real.

On occasion he’d slip into an odd state, almost like a dream, yet he couldn’t remember one thing that happened when he returned to consciousness. All he knew was these episodes were the antithesis of restful. If anything, they made the call of sleep more powerful, rendering him utterly unable to tell the difference between delusion, dream, and reality. Like now, where his unfocused and dull eyes followed an old pelt briefly flit through the undergrowth, gone almost too quickly before he recognized them. He felt like he hadn’t seen his father in a very long time. Perhaps he should call him over?

He moved to stand and opened his mouth to shout for Minnowfin. The world bent and undulated before his eyes, warping his sense of balance and causing him to stumble. Right, why would… why would his father be here? His father passed several seasons ago. What a cruel thing for his mind to come up with.

A strange wave of grief washed over him. “…This sucks.”