A sneeze rouses him from his sleep, forcing Bengt to roll from his flank and onto his belly as he returns to the world.
It's been a few days since his arrival, and his time here has been extremely eventful, even though he had been slipping in and out of consciousness. During the hours when he had been awake enough to actually operate his senses, he's learned a few things: he is in the WindClan camp, more specifically the medicine cat's den, and his savior is called Meadowpaw. He had taken note of the few visitors that came and gone for their own set of problems. Even if he has been brought here to be kept alive, Bengt has spent enough time on his own to remember cautiousness. In his mind, he has mapped out the camp as much as he can, just in case he needs to make a swift escape.
So far it's been quite comfortable here. Food is brought to him, fresh and delicious at his paws, and he rejoices in not having to catch—or steal—his own prey for once. The large blind spot on the left side of his face still gives him nausea if he thinks about it too much... so he prefers not to think about it at all. Even the initially sharp scents of the many herbs that Meadowpaw has been using on him with his suggestions and help have become something familiar to his nose; it isn't nearly as distracting anymore.
Bengt tears into the newly deposited mouse. He is positively ravenous now that his pain levels are more manageable and he is able to keep the food down. His ears twitch when he hears Meadowpaw shuffle about on the side, the side that he doesn't see anymore without turning his head, and he addresses her between bites without looking.
It's been a few days since his arrival, and his time here has been extremely eventful, even though he had been slipping in and out of consciousness. During the hours when he had been awake enough to actually operate his senses, he's learned a few things: he is in the WindClan camp, more specifically the medicine cat's den, and his savior is called Meadowpaw. He had taken note of the few visitors that came and gone for their own set of problems. Even if he has been brought here to be kept alive, Bengt has spent enough time on his own to remember cautiousness. In his mind, he has mapped out the camp as much as he can, just in case he needs to make a swift escape.
So far it's been quite comfortable here. Food is brought to him, fresh and delicious at his paws, and he rejoices in not having to catch—or steal—his own prey for once. The large blind spot on the left side of his face still gives him nausea if he thinks about it too much... so he prefers not to think about it at all. Even the initially sharp scents of the many herbs that Meadowpaw has been using on him with his suggestions and help have become something familiar to his nose; it isn't nearly as distracting anymore.
Bengt tears into the newly deposited mouse. He is positively ravenous now that his pain levels are more manageable and he is able to keep the food down. His ears twitch when he hears Meadowpaw shuffle about on the side, the side that he doesn't see anymore without turning his head, and he addresses her between bites without looking.
"I've made myself quite permanent in your living space, huh?"
Humor returns to him bit by bit. The smirk on his face is audible. "Regret it yet?"
He's been poking at her to cull his boredom, curious to know what she's like under all that selflessness and goodness. It'd be annoying if those very same qualities had not been the thing that saved him.
