Wolf RPG

Her cold progressed rapidly. Her chest didn’t feel so terrible today, though her throat still hurt. It didn’t help that she coughed on occasion, a dry scrape of a sound. Frolic had begun sniffling and sneezing too. It seemed like one of her nostrils was plugged at all times, though they at least appeared to take turns.

Her parents urged her to stay at the rendezvous site and rest. But she’d never let injury hold her back, so why should illness? Frolic was very fatigued, so she walked rather slowly as she traipsed about the territory, seeking whatever adventure today held in store.

Although Sylvie was still wary of Ceridwin, she felt more comfortable going out to familiarize herself with her home. While walking, she spotted Frolic in the distance and quickened her pace to catch up.

Uh, hey! she called, sifting through the names of her youngest siblings. You're Frolic ... right? She'd spent hours trying to commit the names to her memory, and still, she doubted she had it right.

Someone shouted and Frolic halted, head snapping left to right as she tried to pinpoint the source. Right when she clapped eyes on a vaguely familiar figure coming toward her, she felt that telling tingle in her face that heralded the arrival of a sneeze.

It burst out of her so noisily, she didn’t hear the rest of what the lady—she must be Sylvie, her prodigal sister—said. Frolic sniffled and wiped at her runny nose, eyes still fixed on her older sibling as she closed the distance. She looked like the perfect mix of Eljay and Maia.

Unaware that she’d asked a question, Frolic just stared expectantly at her family member, at least until another urge came over her. This time, it was her throat that tickled tellingly. Her mouth opened, tongue lolling out as a hacking cough clawed its way out of her chest and right into poor Sylvie’s face.

Frolic sneezed as Sylvie opened her mouth to speak. Although the incident happened in a split-second, the implications would last longer than that. She felt something hit the back of her throat, and she stumbled back and erupted into a fit of coughing.

Tears pricked her eyes as it continued, and she tried her best to cover her mouth.

Sylvie promptly began coughing too. Frolic usually recovered after a single hack, though this time she brought up some phlegm which choked her a bit. Her eyes started to water as she barked out several more coughs, trying to clear her airway. The fit lasted a solid minute.

Finally, it ebbed and Frolic could draw in some shaky breaths. She blinked wetly at Sylvie as some softer coughs rocked through her, though thankfully nothing like the jag. She sniffed through her one open nostril and plopped onto her haunches, abruptly exhausted.

Are you Sylvie? she croaked at length, offering, I’m Frolic.

Y-Yeah, she answered once she’d gotten her coughing under control. Nice to finally meet y-you, sis, she cleared her throat one last time, freeing the phlegm-y welcome gift from where it’d landed.

Have you been sick long? she asked.

Sylvie’s stammering made Frolic cock her head, water eyes squinting now. She shrugged at the question. She wasn’t sure exactly when she’d started feeling under the weather and wasn’t sure why it mattered.

W-why do you talk like th-this? she wondered. Are y-you cold or s-something?

Sylvie's ears flattened, and she looked away, suddenly embarrassed by Frolic's question. I-I, she tested, trying her best to wrangle her nerves. She sucked in a deep breath, still looking away and blinking tears out of her eyes as shame spread through her like a plague.

I get nervous talking to other people, she explained lamely and with great effort, unable to look at her sister. Frolic probably thought that she was lame, and incapable, and a big baby, and just the lamest thing ever—she began to spiral.

Why was she like this? Why couldn't she just be normal like everybody else?

Frolic met this information with a blink. She couldn’t even comprehend it, though she was infinitely curious. Oblivious to the fact that Sylvie found this subject uncomfortable, she pressed it.

How come? You don’t need to be nervous talking to me! I’m just a little kid! she exclaimed with a laugh, which of course turned into a cough.

It took another moment for the child to recover enough to speak again, at which point she asked, Are you the same age as Ceridwen? Where were you before? Were you out scouting?

While Frolic's question had made her feel incredibly self-conscious, she couldn't help but laugh. You know, I've never asked myself t-that, she admitted. But it might be because I get nervous talking t-to everybody—I always feel like I always say the wrong things and embarrass myself. She frowned, sighed, and shrugged; it is what it is.

She shook her head. No, I'm a year older than 'Dwin—t-though she seems older than me, hm? She was definitely the most grown-up out of the three of them. And, no, I was staying with our relatives in a pack called the Frosthawks—have you ever heard of them?

Frolic arched an eyebrow when Sylvie tried to explain, her expression reading, Cannot relate! Then the conversation took a more interesting turn. The child’s mouth opened to declare a confident “nope!” when realization struck.

Yeah! I met Winterhawk! she exclaimed, leading to yet another paroxysmal cough.

While the hacking coughs wracked her small body, it sank in that Sylvia hadn’t been out adventuring. Perhaps Frolic should’ve been more interested in their extended family but, truth be told, she wasn’t. She knew enough Blackthorns already.

Ceridwen’s gonna take me scouting soon, Frolic said once she recovered enough breath, but I wanna go all by myself someday!

And this time, she punctuated the declaration with not one, not two, but three rapidfire sneezes.

Winterhawk? she echoed slowly, confused. Do you mean Frosthawk ... or somebody named Winterhawk?

Hacking coughs wracked Frolic's body, and Sylvie looked on with concern, already forgetting there was a good chance that there was a good chance that she would also be coughing soon. Have you seen daddy about all that coughing? she asked. If you haven't, we gotta go see him now—that coughing doesn't sound good. Something told her that her sister wouldn't go easily.

Frolic then revealed that Ceridwen would take her scouting, and she smiled. Where are you guys going to go? she asked.

Yeah! was Frolic’s helpful reply when Sylvie tried to make a distinction.

She didn’t speak for a moment otherwise, trying to recover from her back-to-back respiratory fits. Following the sneezes, her nostrils felt a bit clearer but that was because there was a giant gob of snot dangling from her nose. Frolic swiped at it without thinking, then held out her little black paw and admired the enormous booger there.

Gross! she said with delight, showing it to Sylvie before wiping it on the ground and saying, Yeah, I’ve seen him.

That was a fib. She hadn’t consulted with Eljay about her symptoms, fearing he might force-feed her a wheatgrass smoothie or something equally nasty. But she had seen her father around, technically.

She had a feeling Sylvie might not believe her, so Frolic quickly said, Dunno! I’m gonna go find her and ask! See ya later! and darted away.

"Gross!" Frolic exclaimed, examining her booger, and Sylvie agreed. Her face twisted uncomfortably, and she quickly looked away; she often got queasy when she saw gross things.

Although her sister lied, she took the words at face value and didn't press. Good, I'm glad. Daddy will be able to get you better! And she hoped it would be sooner than later; she didn't want her sister to be sick for long.

Then, Frolic abruptly got up and left, leaving Sylvie alone. Oh ... bye, she called after, biting her bottom lip. See y-you later, and with that, she went on her own way, returning to her parent's den to spend some time with them.