Blooms(In the Winter?)[C]

“More marigold? I would have never guessed.” Daisypaw shook her head in equal parts amusement and dismay. Poppy seeds and cobwebs were always helpful, but what they really needed, Coneflower, Catmint, Lavender, something to help with this awful cough, evaded them. She gathered up the wilting petals, gently tucking the flowers into their proper place. It was one of the few crevices that was looking close to full. Small comforts she supposed.

She glanced up at Sootstorm, exhaustion dulling the shine of her amber eyes. “I’ll take a break when this sickness takes a break.” She said, shaking Sootstorm off with a weak roll of her shoulders. She gathered up a bundle of lavender, and began the careful process of weaving the fragrant blossoms into one of the freshly made nests. She beckoned Sootstorm over with a flick of her white-tipped tail, and sat back heavily onto her haunches. “This task is close to resting, i’ll even sit down to do it. Happy?” She gave the tom a weak smile, trying to ease his worry. She pushed a few of the Lavender stems towards Sootstorm, still heavy with half-dried petals. “Take these and weave them into Tallshadow’s nest while you’re here, they should help with his breathing.”

Daisypaw smiled despite herself. “Thank you, good to know our new deputy is benevolent enough to let the almost-medicine cat do her job.” She twitched her ears, clearly amused and her teasing lacked any real bite. She snuck a glance over at the older tom, calming working, the weight that pressed her down absent from his shoulders. It was almost awe inspiring, how strong he looked, despite everything. “There have been better moons.” She said, leaning into the soothing rhythm of the repetitive work of lining the nests.

She let the silence lapse for a moment. “I miss Berrypaw.” She said, so quiet it might be lost to the rustle of lavender and the slow, far-off cadence of the water brushing the shore. Horrified that she had put voice to her thoughts, she bit down on her grief, slamming it back down before the wave could curl in and crash against her ribs. A killing blow before it paralyzed her. “Are you still feeling alright? No dizziness, coughing, sniffles?” She asked in the next breath, barely pausing as the words tumbled into the vulnerable space. “Make sure you don't share prey with sick cats, and don’t get any blood on you. Many of our clanmates are past the infection stage I think, but you can never be sure.”

She kept her eyes focused on the lavender, her head focused on her work. Something always had to be in motion, stillness left space for fear, and Daisypaw had no time to spare for fear. In one heartbeat, she felt so young, like a kit hoping a queen wouldn't notice a messed up nest. In the next she felt so old, like she had been awake for a long stretch of slowly decaying years, like she had seen too much to squeeze into her pitiful few moons.