Broken Boulder robitussin

She was dying. She knew it.

Lily had not left the den since dragging herself in a couple of days ago, and had rested in her own filth, retching and coughing. The girl lay listless on the stone floor, not even the coolness of the rock giving her any sort of comfort from the fever that ravaged her body. She shuddered and burned, writhing slowly in agony. She slept often, but it was a restless slumber, no benefit to it.

Others were in here, too, suffering. Not just the wolves. A tawny she-cat had succumbed just this morning, pacing round and round at a glacial pace in exhausted agitation before curling into herself. Lily watched her fall still, the rise and fall of her springy side ceasing.

Would that be her, too, soon?

gonna say this is after zam is gone if that's ok

All he wants to do is sleep in the wake of Zamael's departure, but he knows better. The scent of disease is thick throughout the territory, and each day his packmates' conditions worsen. It's a miracle he's not gotten sick at all yet — but it's hard to feel grateful for it when his friends are suffering around him. He tries not to think of them as dying, but the notion lingers and nags.
He hasn't seen Lily in a couple days, he realizes — too long for comfort. So, despite the ache in his chest that begs him to retreat to his own den, he seeks her out in hers. It's an effort to ignore the nausea, the bile rising in his throat as he descends into the entrance between the boulders, picking his way around ailing cats. The smell of disease and filth is stronger down here, and he gags a little, nearly dropping the herbs he's brought in the process. His paces increases until he's nearly upon his friend, and he backs up with a soft gasp; this time he does drop the herbs. Lily, Is all he can manage, panicked. Lily.

A silvery shape came toward her, small and blurry. As if from far off. Jimmy. . . No, it got no bigger than that, and--the eye. The scars.

A boy in a tree, staring down at her. Smiling. Her stomach rumbling, but her heart a-flutter.

"Ali," Lily responded, her voice barely more than a burst of ragged breath. She tried to lift her head and managed only an inch or two before it fell back to the stone with a muffled thump. A shiver ran through her body, lifting the hairs along her spine. "Ali. . ."

There was nothing left to vomit. She gagged, but only drool came up. If she concentrated hard, she could taste blood on her tongue; whether it was from her sore throat, her aching belly, or her tongue that she'd bitten during the tremors. . .she didn't know. Lily curled into herself like a shrimp, a whimper gurgling in her gaping maw.