Blacktail Deer Plateau and i won't say it again

Lungs sucked. Joints sucked. Noses sucked. Pretty much everything sucked when he was sick, and right then, Grayday was sicker than he'd been in years. At least it wasn't the same sort of pain that had laid him low when he'd been bitten by the snake. He could still function well enough - it was just that functioning sucked.

To raise his flagging spirits, the male had taken a half-frozen rabbit from the cache and chewed it to a pulp. The meat was all gluped down as it thawed, but the bones, fur, and innards were left in a neat pile when he was done. The work made him cough rather pitifully, and as a gift to his poor, sick self, Grayday sniffed at the pile for a moment before flopping over and beginning to roll around in it, irritable whines punctuating each swivel of his body.

When he stood, he felt no better, and smelled markedly worse. The male gave another hacking cough and a sad wheeze before lying atop the fruits of his labor, ears drooping and tail still. He did not look up when he sensed a packmate near, too weary to even check the identity of his company.

"I'm dying," he huffed to the unidentified wolf.