Being able to manipulate elements is common among the clan cats. ThunderClan have many heavy-defensive earth and poison type cats, RiverClan cats are often the enviable water manipulators, ShadowClan are sharp offensive fire types, and WindClan swif...
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"Smokepaw, Smokepaw, you have to tell me what you feel. Use your words." Smokepaw could barely breathe, vomit still dribbling out of her jaws, her eyes wide with shock. She let out a small whine that grew into a louder whine. I'm dying. I'm dying. I'm dying. I can't do this. I can't do this.
"She was saying she couldn't walk. It was like she had just rolled in catmint or something, she kept falling." Newtstream murmured, Kiwipaw treating the tortoiseshell's wounds but watching Smokepaw's spectacle from the base of the willow tree
"Poison. They were poison cats," Eelpaw offered from where she stood next to another medicine cat also treating her wounds. Sandleaf nodded, giving Smokepaw a comforting lick, and started applying cobwebs to open cuts. Bundles of wound-healing herbs were laying out, a few opened and resting on thin willow leaves. They were several paces from the willow's base; Smokepaw had gotten up and tried to leave moments after being brought into the den. She had thought it was a good idea in the moment, but then she had fallen because she could barely walk, and then she started vomiting and crying out.
"I can see that. It looks like her body's trying to get rid of whatever kind of poison it was-- Kiwipaw go get some yarrow, thyme, and... wintergreen. Now, now, let's go." The gray tabby apprentice nodded with an exasperated sigh, padding off to herb storage.
"Smokepaw, it's going to be okay...," Newtstream eased, but Smokepaw didn't pay any mind. How would she know. She's not throwing up practically every fish she's ever eaten, she's not unable to feel her whole body, she's not unable to walk in a straight line without falling.
She felt her stomach heave again, and she shut her eyes tight, her mouth opening to rid herself of anything, but nothing even came out.
"Sandleaf, I think she may be dehydrated. She's not even puking water." Kiwipaw meowed, dropping the freshly retrieved herbs. The dilute calico medicine cat flicked her tail.
"That's the least of our worries. Now, Smokepaw's been poisoned. Currently she's in danger of what?" She promoted her apprentice, beginning to chew up the yarrow.
"Dying," the swirled tabby drawled, eyes carefully watched Smokepaw as she shook. Sandleaf flicked an ear in annoyance, spitting out the poultice.
"It's unlikely since we're here. What else?"
"Hn..."
"Shock. She's in danger of shock; she's lost a lot of blood. It will kill her before the poison, if the poison is even lethal." Smokepaw let out a small whine again, her head feeling light. StarClan. StarClan. I don't want to die. I don't want to. I can't. I have so much I have to do-- I swear I'll fight until my last breathe if it means I don't die.
