•° Violetfreckle °•
Rapid Recovery • Collector • Master Scout
Bumblestar's fur bristling initially shocked her, and Violetfreckle's knee-jerk reaction was to react back with hostility. Whatever was wrong, there was no need to take it out on
her just for trying to be there. Thankfully, though, Vi was able to swallow the instinctive growl that was trying to make itself known. Old habits die hard, she supposed. Aggression couldn't be the answer to everything, especially when Bumblestar was clearly not herself. It was her job to be there and be patient, not to react.
And then the leader fell apart, crumbling like a long-dead branch falling to the ground. And Violetfreckle felt Bumblestar lean against her as if she was the only thing keeping her from breaking. Vi leaned into the contact, taking the time to curl up around the smaller cat as she tried to speak.
The cure. The cure had arrived? Her heart raced. Surely this was a good thing. After three Starsdamned moons the suffering could
finally end. Or wait, was there still no cure? Was that what she meant? Was there
no cure?
Wolfhive. Something had happened to the kid, and Violetfreckle's ears flattened. Was he still sick?
"The– the cure?" Her voice was a hushed whisper.
"Is it here? Or, is Wolfhive– is he still sick?" Did the cure not work? Did the cure not work on
him? Did he need the cure badly? Was he
doing badly? Oh, StarClan above she hoped not. Because if that was the case, she was going to have to march into that sick camp herself and make sure her mate's son – practically
her son – was taken care of, her own health be damned.
// @
dino. \\