Swiftcurrent Creek i'll burn my eyes out before i get out

@Eligius <3 dated for the 22nd

It's been quite some time since he's seen anyone, and Castor is quickly wasting away. The boy's steps have become heavy, his body gaunt and sour with sickness. Starving had been the worst pain he'd ever known before the sickness set in; now, it is the screaming of his painfully-tight lungs that takes the place at the top.
With these feelings plaguing him constantly, it was only a matter of time before he gave up. The ragged, too-thin form curled up in the snow only yards from the territory's namesake looks almost nothing like the fluffy bright-eyed youth that had departed his home. He's a shell now; too weakened by hunger, sickness, and hopelessness to respond even to the insistent nudging of an unfamiliar nose at his shoulder. If he bothered to look up, he'd realize that a bold coyote, as young and starved as himself, had come to inspect him — to see if he's fit to make a meal of yet. But he isn't dead yet, and it seems that the scrawny coyote doesn't think him quite worth a fight even in this state. The creature only backs up a few paces and circles, waiting for the inevitable.

Swiftcurrent Creek is becoming a local haunting for the golden boy. The atmosphere is nice, if you ignore the indents of huge boulders. Something about this place holds history, and Eligius is curious enough to desire finding out— I mean, scouting further for that hunting ground idea he had!
Trotting along, he hears the soft whine of a yote nearby, and the scamper of feet across the snow. Moth to flame, Eligius investigates. His blue eyes lock upon the coyote, before he spots the ragged, thin form of what appears to be wolf.
Charging forth, the skinny boy snaps his jaws at the coyote, sending the small canine with its tail between its legs, and rushes to the beige boy’s side.
Hey! He says, Are you alright? You don’t look so good— Obviously.

The flurry of movement causes him to stir faintly, forelimbs stretching out slowly as he lifts his aching head. He looks up with bleary eyes, struggling to focus on the golden figure that seems to be talking to him. None of the words make sense, though. He opens his mouth to speak, but all he can manage is a whine. Even that hurts his throat and causes his lungs to tighten more. Blinking, he tries again — but this time his attempt ends in a series of soft sneezes that leave his eyes watering even more than before.

Heart fluttering within his chest, the golden boy flattens his tipped ears. The wolf still breathes and still moves! That’s a good sign, but he’s weak, enough so it seems words are impossible. Eligius is unaware that his speech is even difficult for the other to understand.
Hey there, it’s gonna be alright, okay? I’ll help you out, no sweat. He tries to keep his voice quieter than normal. Uhmm… Eligius shifts, lifting his head up and towards the creek. Water would help, but the winter makes it difficult to find something to absorb it.
Moss fortunately grows in even cold weather though.
I’ll be right back. He promises.
It takes him a bit until he finds a wad of moss, but once he does, he quickly grabs it, soaks it in a part of the creek still unfrozen and returns back to the wolf’s side. Cold water dripping down his jaw and upon the ground by the second, the golden boy leans it down and nudges it gently towards him.

More words, and the figure is gone. He sucks in a ragged breath, head lowering again so slowly the movement is barely noticeable. It feels like hardly a moment passes before the golden wolf is back; he has no way of realizing that this assumption is wrong, that his perception of time is warped. The other places something green and brown and glistening before him, and immediately he thinks of @Speedy and her herbs. This makes sense to him, at least — though not quite as much as he thinks. He leans forward with another rattling breath, coughing once before he takes the moss in his mouth. It tastes awful (what little he can taste), but the moisture is lovely on his tongue, such a relief he could cry if his eyes didn't ache so much. So he chews slowly, and eventually swallows the offering, leaving the faintest aftertaste of dirt in his mouth.

At first, Eligius relaxes—relieved that the starved wolf takes the moss and starts to drink from it. It quickly shifts to horror, however, as he hears the crunch and munch of chewing. Wait!! He squeaks, his face contorting between different expressions of confusion, horror and anxiety.
Alas, it is too late, and the moss is gone.
... Are… He fades off, eyebrows furrowing as blue eyes blink and try to register the situation. A bubble of laughter escapes his lips a moment later. The golden boy rolls upon the ground. He oughtn’t laugh at the poor fellow, but the situation was just too ridiculous!