[Fawn]

Fawnsqueak may as well have deflated under Lionstar's weight with a sad little noise escaping him with his supply of air. "Can... you at least drink the water?" he asked, request muffled by Lionstar's sea of spiky golden fluff, but he didn't let that deter him as he attempted to wriggle forward and drag the mossball as close as he could to Lionstar's muzzle so he'd have no excuse not to take care of himself. Temptations such as asking a million more questions--such as when it happened, what he had, if it was contagious, and more--played on Fawnsqueak's mind, but he didn't have the courage to voice it when Lionstar was understandably in a sour mood in the midst of his illness. So, he ceased squirming to just stay here for who knew how long, perhaps until Lionstar got tired of it. The end of time would find them like this.