Blacktail Deer Plateau sick love is my modern cliche

come get your yuck. slightly backdated

he knew he was in trouble when he woke up one morning and his throat felt tight, sore, and filled with fluid. hacking, he rose to his feet, his mouth expelling a horrendously-colored glob of phlegm onto the ground. wincing in distaste--and the headache he bore--aditya kicked some dirt and frost over the repulsive sight before padding slowly away, coughing as he went.

he felt terrible. but he knew that he should take his own advice. he had told grayday that going for a walk might make him feel better; perhaps a quick stroll to the borders would warm him, clear his throat? stiff-legged and aching, aditya meandered, going at a much slower clip than usual today.

he was filled with regret soon enough. the icy wind was enough to make him want to turn tail and run back to his den at the rendezvous. feeling overwhelmed, he sat on his haunches suddenly, chest heaving as he coughed. it hurt--the action ripped his throat and burned in his lungs. a thin trail of drool leaked from the corner of his mouth, settling chilly on his chin.

aditya briefly wondered whether he should call for pema. he lifted his muzzle to howl, then lowered it: he felt too exhausted to even care. with a small whine, he laid down, resting his head on his forepaws.