[ti]Private[/ti]It's Cold Outside

[M'Lady]

He's been coughing. 
At first it wasn't much of an issue. His throat was merely itchy, and it wasn't like he talked much anyway. So it hadn't posed a problem. He assumed it was just a cold, from all the chilly nights he'd spent out in the meadow looking up at the stars, whispering to Ash and not waiting around for some response he knew he'd never receive. But over the past few days, it started to feel rougher, and burned, and more body found itself behind his coughs. His eyes would water, and his breathing was scratchy, and so the male finally decided to go to Silverfang and see if he could get some coltsfoot or maybe goldenrod to soothe his throat. 

It was late afternoon when he padded over to Silverfang's den, sniffing to see if she was around. He walked in, as silently as a ghost, with a stark white pelt as icy blue eyes. He was forced to cough again, eyes shining with unshed tears at the heaving action that wracked his body with crackling pains. He didn't say a word, Silverfang would notice him soon enough. He didn't really want to bother her if he didn't have to, so if she seemed too busy to deal with whatever thing he had caught, he would most likely slip out. 

He finished his bout of coughing, wincing as he realized it had been louder than he intended it to be. The apprentice shuffled his paws, blue eyes turning towards the ground with his head slightly bowed, as if apologizing for the interruption. He hated being sick, it made him feel out of control, and since he was usually always in control of himself, it was a terrible feeling that settled deep and heavy in his gut. 

[silverfang218]

Silverfang’s ears perked up at the sound of faint pawsteps, so quiet she almost missed them, the sound of coughs, loud enough that she would have had to of been deaf to not hear them, quickly follows. Her head peeks out from a crevice of her den; Sootkit scrambles up from his place on Silverfang’s shoulders- after his return, the little guy had returned to his place by Silverfang’s side pretty quickly- to put his little paws on her head and peer out at the newcomer as well.

Silverfang’s blue gaze becomes concerned as she watches Whitepaw cough. Once he recovers a bit, she speaks up, “That sounds pretty bad, Whitepaw. Sit down somewhere; I’ll see if I can’t find something to help a bit.” Her face disappears back into the back part of her den, where she keeps her many herbs. She noses around while Sootkit slides off Silver’s back and onto the stone floor. Soot continues watching Whitepaw, keeping a close eye on Silver’s patient for her.

Silverfang picks out a small dose of tansy and some catmint just in case. She gathers up both herbs and trots past Soot and over to Whitepaw. She pushes the tansy over to him, while pushing the catmint to the side, as she carefully looks him over. “How long have you been coughing for? Is there anything else going on?” She asks sternly, not really sure if she’s going to get a verbal answer or not. The medicine cat gently places her paw against her patient’s head, trying to see if he has a fever or not.

[M'Lady]

He glanced up as Silverfang approached him, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement as she ordered him to sit down while she escaped into her stores to look for herbs. He chose to sit in one of the mossy nests, to further escape the chill that had settled into his fur. He felt hot, but his paws were freezing. That wasn't normal, was it? He couldn't quite recall. He sat, curling his tails over his cold paws, and waited for the medicine cat to return. He looked down at Sootkit, who seemed quite intent on keeping an eye on him, and Whitepaw saw it wise not to protest.

The apprentice reached for the tansy when it was placed before him, silently chewing the leaves when Silverfang questioned his unknown illness. He frowned, seeming to ponder his answer before he swallowed the tansy and parted his maw to speak. "Three sunrises." No one normally heard his voice, but for the lucky few who did, they would remember it to be deep and smooth like honey, with a faint musical sense that would vaguely remind them of his much more mischievous sister. Now it was hollow, a bit gravelly due to his scratchy burning throat. He didn't say another word, the only reason he had in the first place was to make things easier for Silverfang. He was selectively mute, sure, but the last thing he wanted to do was inconvenience someone as important as their medicine cat. Plus, he liked Silverfang enough, it wasn't too bad. "M' head hurts. On fire."

[silverfang218]

Silverfang looks a tad surprised that he answered her, though the surprise quickly turns back into a frown. She pushes the catmint towards him as well, assuming that he has greencough or something similar- the symptoms are the same: fever, bad cough. “Next time come to me as soon as you start coughing.” Little does she know, there won’t be a next time. She grumbles, hoping that the apprentice hadn’t infected anyone else. As Whitepaw adds that his head feels like it’s on fire, her frown deepens. “One moment, I’ll see if I can’t find you something for that too.”

She trots back to her little herb section; she also takes a tiny dose of tansy as well, hoping to keep herself from also getting greencough. She leans down and murmurs something in Sootkit’s ear and the little white kitten scampers out of the medicine cat den. The medicine cat grabs some feverfew. Luckily, she has plenty of that since it grows near the camp. She returns and plops down near Whitepaw, putting the herb in front of her patient. “You will be staying in here with me until you get to feeling better.” the medicine cat declares. That’s what Whitepaw gets for trying to hide it. Silver is not happy with him…. But Sootkit could help White sneak out if White wants him to. At some point.

[M'Lady]

He frowned, kittybrows furrowing in his agitation. Catmint. He didn't know a whole lot about herbs, but he knew what catmint was for. Did Silverfang think he had greencough? Greencough would be a nightmare, for both him and the clan. He glanced uneasily at Sootkit before Silverfang sent him away. He felt a bit calmer after that, though he still refused to eat the catmint. He was almost a young warrior, and he was usually strong and healthy. He didn't want to take catmint when the illness could spread to the elders, the queens, the kits!

When the medicine cat returned with feverfew, he took that herb obediently, but then rose his cold starry eyes to view the she-cat. "Save it." He told her firmly, pushing the catmint back towards her. He didn't protest to staying, he knew it would be best to isolate himself from his clanmates. He regret not coming sooner, if it really was greencough. He didn't think such a thing would come so early in leafbare, and it was a simple explanation to have just a cold after being outside in the cold so often. That one was on him. But he could be wrong, and he already felt guilty about it. he would stay without complaint.

[silverfang218]

At Whitepaw’s refusal, Silverfang lets out a soft growl of frustration; she doesn’t know why she’s surprised, as she knows Whitepaw’s selfless ways. “No. You better eat that before I decide to force feed it to you. Leafbare is just starting and MistClan needs its warriors to be healthy and strong. That includes you, you mousebrain.” While her tone is as soft as always, there is a definite stern quality to her voice that clearly states that she fully intends to force him to eat that, one way or another.

Her eyes narrow a bit at her patient, a bit of fierceness entering her gaze; it makes her look more like a warrior than a medicine cat, a warrior staring down an enemy while mentally daring them to attack her. She slowly pushes the catmint back towards him, maintaining her stare the entire time.

If Whitepaw were to refuse again, it’s unlikely that Silverfang would be able to force the issue if she were by herself and the medicine cat knows that. She already has backup in mind; if a medicine cat asks for help, then usually any warrior would be more than willing to assist her. Whitepaw is likely weakened by his illness, but not nearly enough for her to be able to easily force him to do anything but even the strongest of warriors can be overcome by numbers…

[M'Lady]

She reminded him a bit of his sister.
It was inevitable, the silvery fur and the blue eyes. And now the fierce glow in her gaze that told him she wasn't going to take no for an answer. He would always cave into Ashpaw. She was his sister and he adored her, she was the one that could drag anything out of him.

But Silverfang wasn't Ashpaw.
And if more cats got sick, there would be some that needed the catmint a lot more than he did.

He still sat, but the apprentice drew himself up tall. He was of warrior age now, and though there were still some cats larger than him, there were many that were still smaller than him as well. He was sick and wheezing, but he had his strength. He would not be coddled with all the herbs in the stores if there were others that could need them more. A rare growl rose in his throat, and eyes shone as bright and cold as Silverpelt. "Save it." He told her, matching her threatening stare with one of his own. He was selfless. He'd always been willing to sacrifice anything, to do anything, for his clan. His purpose was merely to serve, and he was confident that he could pull through on his own merits where others could not. He was a young but he was a warrior full with strength. And... He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he took the catmint where it could help an elder or a kit or a queen, they would need it much more than he. They were worth much more than he. Whitepaw was expendable, he knew that. Most of his clanmates were not.

[silverfang218]

“Fine.” Silverfang sighs, taking a step back as if she’s giving in. So we do this the hard way. The medicine cat motions with her tail for Whitepaw to stay where he is, “I’ll be right back, then,” she tells him as she exits the den. The moment that Whitepaw refused the first time Silverfang had already picked out the cavalry she wanted to call in.

Silver peeks her head into the nursery, where Nightfur is giving a moss nest a death stare as she tries to decide whether to replace the moss or to leave it for another night. The black queen’s green gaze flicks upwards towards the uneven pawsteps of her former apprentice. Night can note a frustrated glint in Silver’s eye but before the queen can say anything, Silver mews, “I need your help for a moment in the medicine cat den. Uh go get Ravenwing, too.” With that, the medicine cat retreats. She returns to her den and to Whitepaw. She scoops up the catmint from the ground and deposits it on the floor again a little ways away, though she doesn’t actually go put it up. Instead, she pulls out some more tansy from her store and makes two tiny piles near the entrance of her den. One for Nightfur and one for Ravenwing.

Silverfang flashes a small smile to her patient, who is hopefully still right where she left him other StarClan have mercy on that poor apprentice. “Last chance, Whitepaw. Just take the catmint. For my peace of mind, if nothing else.” That slightly fierce look in her eyes still hasn’t faded, and there is a quiet tone of frustration half hidden in her soft voice. She’s giving him this one last chance before she has Ravenwing and Nightfur sit on the poor apprentice so she can just feed it to him.

Nightfur dutifully goes to fulfill the medicine cat’s request without question. She steps out of the nursery, her green gaze sweeping across the camp until it finds her favorite mousebrain, Ravenwing. The queen swiftly makes her way towards him, not wanting to keep Silverfang waiting. “Ravenwing,” she gives him a quick smile and nod in greeting before her tone and gaze turns serious, “Silverfang wants our help with something in her den.” The dark furred she-cat turns, motioning for him to follow with her tail, “She didn’t say what it was, though.” Night answers the first question she knows he’ll likely ask.

(( Dofferz! ))

[Dofferz!]

Ravenwing pricked his ears as foot steps approached the den and he shifted his gaze up from his grooming to see who was approaching. Nightfur peeked her head through, and he felt himself smile as she approached him in particular. The ebony warrior opened his mouth to speak a greeting, but she started before he did, gradually growing more serious, shutting his maw in slight worry. The medicine cat den? "I wonder what?" he spoke, halfway out of worry for his own pelt. The male scrambled to his paws, quickly following the queen towards Silverfang's den where he would be met wide eyed with two small bundles of tansy, the medicine cat, and his very own apprentice. A glimmer of curiosity flashed in his eyes, and Ravenwing spoke, "You called, ma'am?" As he stood there, the male couldn't help but look around the den with his fur on end as if he were somewhere new and maleficent. He had learned in past experience that here was no place to be with Nightfur. 'Starclan have mercy on the poor apprentice.'