how the mighty fall ❧ // warrior cats

IX - ILLNESS

     Lakewhisker enters a seizure. He writhes on the floor of the medicine den, paws bursting through neat piles of herbs and spraying them into the shadowy corners. Eyes rolled back in his head, he looks more wraith than warrior, and Stonetail freezes along the wall, breath caught in her chest. Streamheart does the same, leaping back from her father's thrashing with a cry of horror. This leaves Robinfoot and Thrushpaw to surge forward, dodging flailing limbs in an effort to pin the grey tom down until the seizure passes. The medicine cat is able to hold Lakewhisker's hind legs in place, but his apprentice is at a disadvantage with her small size and can only trap one forepaw against the ground. The other still twitches and shakes, claws sheathing and unsheathing at random; they have already scored Robinfoot's side in the commotion.

     Coming to their senses, Streamheart and Stonetail jointly place their paws atop Lakewhisker's last free leg, and even though the silver tabby can be heard keening softly, ears flat to her skull, she remains in place until her father finally stills. There is a moment of unspeakable terror following this; the senior warrior appears to fall motionless entirely. But then he gives a great shuddering breath and moans, a rough, grating noise like rocks scraping against the skulls of rabbits left out to dry in the sun.

     "Oh, thank StarClan," Streamheart chokes out, pressing her nose to Lakewhisker's shoulder. Robinfoot pushes between them, though, flicking his tail to push the she-cats back.

     "We don't know what caused this, so don't get too close. If it's contagious, you two don't need to catch it," he says. "And I'm sorry you had to see that."

     Streamheart's hackles rise and she thrusts her muzzle close to Robinfoot's, growling, "He's my father! I want to help."

     "He's my patient," Robinfoot retorts, holding his ground, "and I don't want you to help because I don't want you rolling on the ground like he did. I understand your concern, but for now, you're better off anywhere but here."

     She has to understand. After all, she's no fool. But all the same, Streamheart snarls and whips around, racing out of the medicine den and towards her nest. "You, too," Robinfoot says, giving Stonetail a pointed look. Hesitating in the entrance, the grey warrior looks over Lakewhisker one more time before turning away and following her friend into seclusion.

     Inside the den, Streamheart is curled into her nest, glowering darkly at the woven bracken walls. Her tail sweeps back and forth, scattering moss fragments with abandon. "I want to help him," she mutters sourly when Stonetail sits in the nest slightly to her right.

     "So do I," she says in reply, kneading her bedding anxiously. "I... He's done everything for us."

     "Why can't we do that for him?"

     "Because Robinfoot is being careful, and we're being...family."

     Streamheart grunts, but rather than enter into further debate, she brings her tail around to rest tersely atop her paws. With her eyes squeezed shut, she does not see Stonetail shift nests to lie beside her. She also does not seem to mind, and exhales unevenly as her friend presses her back against silver tabby stripes. They remain like this, grim silence cloaking them comfortably. It is so much easier not to speak, not to share. Solidarity provides more comfort than the spoken word.