Within the confines of the makeshift medicine cat's den, a haven against the harsh chill of Leaf-bare, Cloudypaw laid in a thrown-together nest of moss. She was curled up into a tight ball, lavender spread across her chest and the bitter taste of the herb mixture still lingering in her mouth. She felt disgusting.
A soft sniffle was the first inkling that something was amiss for Cloudypaw, coming on as she prepared for the Gathering. As the night progressed, her condition took a turn for the worse. She was barely eating or drinking due to her sore throat, brought on by uncountable vomiting sessions and coughs. She hasn't left her nest willingly since the Gathering. Her pelt, once well-groomed, was covered in bits of old lavender and moss from her nest.
However, days passed, and it was safe to say the treatment was at least temporarily effective. She was feeling a little better. Her eyes were clearer. She could smell the lingering herbs in the air - a first since she arrived. She felt like she could exist again. At least a little bit.
She stirred in her nest. She pushed herself into a sitting position, with a gentle groan before her frame suddenly convulsed with harsh and relentless raspy coughs, erupting deep within her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut involuntarily, slowly leaning down with each cough. In the midst of her coughing fit, a dry gag interrupted. It was a harsh sound, as though her body was desperate to expel something stubborn in the back of her throat. She sat back up, her eyes watering and her mind blank. She swallowed after a few seconds in an attempt to mark the end of the coughing fit, or maybe it was reassurance it wouldn't happen again. She flinched softly. Her throat was still scratchy and sore.
She looked towards the entrance of the medicine den longingly. Her paws felt pulled towards training and shenanigans. She wanted to be out in the territory with her brother. She wanted to try, at the very least. She rose shakily to her paws and slowly padded to the entrance.
She was going to try.
