a spoonful of poultice [c]

"Fawnshine... I give in... Could I have some... spare herbs?"

The greeting was hardly the respectful one that would have come from any other cat looking for the aid of the heterochromatic healer, but it certainly got the point across. Sunrises and sunsets of back-to-back hallucinations had finally forced the tortoiseshell to throw in the mousetail. For as long as possible, she had refused any sort of assistance, wanting to spare the resources for those that certainly needed it much more than she did. But after those sleepless nights? It was finally time, as it seemed obvious that Starclan wasn't about to show her any mercy anytime soon.

You find that the combination of herbs work to relieve most of the symptoms, but not all.

---

From how little convincing it took for her medicine cat to immediately get to work on tending to her, the tortoiseshell was thoroughly convinced that she must have looked some level of atrocious. Alternatively, there was a chance that Fawnshine had been waiting until the very moment she would give the signal she was willing to accept herbs. It had a sensation of guilt quickly crawling into the pit of her stomach, and the tears already ran along the tortoiseshell's face from just how much agony the illness had finally pushed her to. If Starclan was benevolent, they'd have let her lose one of her lives already. Unfortunately, it seemed no benevolence was there. She was forced to tough it out, stuck to endure it in this life. Perhaps it was because she had not yet performed the act of justice.

Justice... she needed to serve justice. But in no way was she doing so in this state.

Any assistance that she got from her friend was more than welcomed. Strangled, pained sounds came out of her at the particular tingle or prickle of certain herbs, but she still took every single one dutifully. Allowed for her friend to apply whatever poultices were necessary, whose sensations crept into her ailing body with the promise of better. Perhaps not fully healed, but at least better--and she would take that.

She could think clearer, that was for sure. "Thanks..." Mottlestar rasped as she could finally rest, firmly taking a place to breathe in one of the nests that had been made for Fawnshine's other patients. The guilt could come and eat at her later. For now, she did what she had to do to lead, and that was what she would tell herself. "Cure soon?" She kept her phrases short, especially as the exhaustion from all that she had been going through was quick to remind her that she didn't remotely have the level of energy that she was used to.