Private Backwritten Camp ShadowClan a spoonful of sugar makes the... 𓍊𓋼𓆏𓋼𓍊 — medicine time baby

[F l e a p a w]

cough cough hack hack her

Fleakit drifted in and out of darkness—her mind half here, half lost, tangled in a fevered haze. Everything ached. Her legs, her chest, even her damn whiskers felt weird, tingling with that, too-hot, too-cold sensation that made her skin prickle.

She dangled limply in flame-colored jaws, paws curled weakly against her chest, tail tucked close to her rump. She could feel the rough scrape of fur against her own, the moist heat of breath sticking to her fevered pelt. Normally, she would hate this—being carried like a piece of prey, trapped in someone else's grip. But this time she didn't fight it. Couldn't really.

Her ears buzzed, the world warping around her. Voices flickered in and out, too loud one second, too distant the next. Timber was speaking. Someone else, too. She should probably care about what they were saying. But the words slipped past her, meaningless noise.

She tried to open her eyes, squinting through the crusted edges. The air was thick with the dull, bitter scent of herbs. Her stomach twisted.

She instantly regretted letting them pick her up—not that she had much choice. She knew exactly what came next. They were gonna make her eat something really fucking gross.

A low, miserable groan dragged from her throat. "Uhnnnnggg!" It was supposed to be words, but all she managed was a pathetic, dissatisfied noise. This sucked so bad! Fleakit tried to grit her teeth, to hold on to some scrap of control, but even that was slipping away. Her head lolled to the side, breath labored, ears twitching at the sound of something ruffling.

@Timberfrost @Flamerunner @cicadabuzz
​

shes got a knife ▬ι═ﺤ stab stab

• ooc —— STAMPEDEEEE
• 
  I extend my hand like a mob boss and allow you to kiss my ring but when you lean closer you see its one of those glow-in-the-dark spider rings you win at arcades [MUNCH] you disrespec me - and eat my spooky spida ring! which cost me 50 tickets at funtime arcade and pizzeria. VINNY! Hit her with da sticky hand!​
  ​
• FLEAKIT / FLEAPAW / FLEAFIRE
  - she/her
  - kit
  - 5 moons
  - speech thought
  - some physical powerplay permitted
  
  
  penned by user​

​

 

[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 27 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ orange eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

Cicadabuzz does not waste time on pleasantries. The moment Flamerunner and Timberfrost step into the den with the limp bundle of fur dangling from the warrior's jaws, they are already assessing. Fever-bright eyes, crusted at the edges. Labored breath, shallow and uneven. The sickly heat radiating from Fleakit's tiny body is suffocating in the herb-laden air. "Set her down." The command is quiet but firm, and even before the warriors fully comply, Cicadabuzz is moving. Their paws are deliberate, precise, as they gather what they need. Coltsfoot for her breathing—her chest rises and falls too fast, as if her body is struggling to catch up with itself. Feverfew to bring down the heat clinging to her fur like a second pelt. Honey to soothe her throat, should she even have the strength to swallow it. Chervil, in case nausea grips her small frame like a vice. They will not waste time forcing her to eat what her body will only reject.

The moss is already damp when Cicadabuzz presses it to Fleakit's muzzle, coaxing what little awareness lingers in the kit's fevered mind. "Drink," they murmur, though they know there is little understanding left in her just now. Their voice is neither soft nor cruel—it holds only command, expectation. Whether conscious effort or reflex, her chapped tongue flicks against the moisture. A start. Cicadabuzz does not look up as they chew the feverfew down into a paste, mixing it with honey to dull the bitterness. It will not be enough to mask the taste entirely—her inevitable protest is already anticipated—but it will make it easier. They do not coddle her, do not murmur reassurances that it will be over soon. Her opinion does not matter, only that she swallows it.

They slide a paw beneath her chin, tilting her head just enough to part her jaws with a precise press of their claws. A measured amount of the paste is placed at the back of her tongue, and their paw remains firm beneath her chin, ensuring she does not immediately spit it out. "Swallow," they instruct, calm and unwavering. They wait for her to do so, but once she does, Cicadabuzz is already moving to the coltsfoot, preparing it in the same way they prepared the feverfew. She has no choice in this—her body is weak, and they will not allow it to slip further. Satisfied that the first treatment is taken, they finally glance up, their gaze landing on Flamerunner and Timberfrost, unreadable as ever. "The fever should break within one or two sunrises if she does not fight the treatment I give her," they state, matter-of-fact. "If she worsens, I will need to know immediately. I will keep her here." There is no space for panic or doubt in their tone. They return to their work, once more pressing the dampened wad of moss to Fleakit's mouth.

"Drink."

 

[Flamerunner]

FLAME OF SHADOWCLAN

Flamerunner hadn't ever really needed a kindred connection with others. He did his thing, got his fair share of scowls and eye-rolls, and just existed in his own lazy little way. Some cats ignored him, some acknowledged him, and occasionally, someone would throw him a glare or a compliment. It was all the same to him. He took it as it came. And then this little ball of fire had crashed into his life. Fleakit was interesting. She loved mischief and pranks as much as he did. She had a spark, a wildness that made her impossible to ignore. And before he even realized it, he'd grown attached. " I know. " His muffled voice rumbled as he carried her toward Cicadabuzz's den, amusement flickering in his golden eyes.

" F'r yer own goodd. "

His words were met with the expected weak resistance, but he didn't let it bother him. Instead, he carefully placed her down, watching as Cicadabuzz flitted about in their usual eccentric way. Funky cat, that one. Flamerunner stayed where he was, tail flicking, watching as the medicine cat worked. Then, after a beat, he leaned his head down toward Fleakit. " Y'know it's for your own good. " he murmured, his tone quieter now. " Better to get it over with. The sooner you do, the sooner we can… do stuff. "

The frown that flickered over his face was brief, but it was there. Worry, maybe, though he'd never admit it. Cicadabuzz's voice cut in, saying the fever should break in a sunrise or two, if she didn't fight the treatment. This spitfire? Yeah. He hoped she did not... " Done deal. " Flamerunner nodded before leaning down once more, his voice dropping even lower, meant only for her.

" I'll stick with you till you're better, okay? Extra warmth. "

A lazy smile tugged at his maw, but the promise in his tone was real.

RUN BOY RUN ——･ﾟ✦​

･ﾟ✦ —— THE SUN WILL BE GUIDING YOU

 

[F l e a p a w]

Flamerunner's words rumbled in her ears. She knew what they meant—knew they were supposed to be comforting—but all they did was twist the unease tighter in her stomach.
She didn't fight as the medicine cat pressed moss to her face. Fleakit chews on the mushy, water-soaked thing before it's taken away. Cool water dripped down her muzzle, stray droplets plopping to the floor.

Fleakit wanted to be anywhere but in Cicadabuzz's lair. She knew what was coming, even before the medicine cat tipped her chin back. And she wanted none of it.

She flails around, paws twitching weakly as she tried to pull away. Her head twisted, mouth clenched as tight as she could manage, but it wasn't enough.
A claw pried her jaw open, and suddenly, something sickly sweet and bitter was smothered onto her tongue. She gagged and if not for Cicadabuzz's measures, she would've spat it right back in their stupid face. But with Cicada supporting her jaw she can only gargle.

For a moment she weighed her options, as few as they were. Holding it in her mouth only made it worse, the honey melting into her saliva, leaving bits of plant pulp sticking to the roof of her mouth like glue.

There was no choice. With a miserable noise, she swallows and then sets free a tiny, screech in her displeasure. The whole thing was exhausting.

She barely had the energy as she was made to drink again, quickly lapping up the fresh water offered to her, glad to wash the filth from her mouth. Fleakit was worn out, eyes fluttering, heavier than before. The crusts on her eyes are painful, crackling as she fights to stay awake.

She grunts at the sound of Flamerunners voice, his promise to stay with her. She's… relieved. It's not something she would admit but the last thing she wants is to be in here alone. "Mmmmm em tired." Flea whines before melting into a puddle on the floor.

____________IF I COULD PAINT THE SKY 𓆏 WOULD ALL THE STARS THEN SHINE A BLOODY RED?

• ooc: —

• 

• FLEAPAW she/her | shadowclanner | 6 moons
  → FLEAKIT / FLEAPAW / FLEAFIRE
  → mentored by POSSUMGRIN and FROSTSTORM
  → former mill kit and kittypet
  → some physical powerplay permitted
  → speech thought/emphasis attacking