/// private for simp & i

Exhaustion had ebbed away at his senses gradually. The darkness of his blind side was a tempting void, and every time he blinked it was a struggle to open his eye again. Herbs and the smell of sickness and death has become so constant in their camp he barely cared anymore when the fresh reek invaded his breath. it was harder to get used to the whimpers and wails of the sick and grieving, but with time he did; as their voices cracked and gave away he was too numb himself to keen or even offer his sympathy.

Another blink lasted several heartbeats before Chim forced his eye open again and stumbled away from the wall. He had to keep moving. He hadn’t slept in days, not since Ghosttoad died, how could he when sleeping on his own was so damn cold and lonely? They hadn’t been public with their relationship but the clan must have suspected, must have seen how closely they worked, must have seen him remain strong through his son’s death only to unravel at the loss of the butler.

“I’m going hunting,” he rasped to nobody in particular as he turned to leave. Their leadership had died or left a moon ago and nobody had the energy to organize patrols anymore, not even healthy cats like Violeteyes seemed capable of much. The kill pile was always empty. Chim didn’t expect anyone to answer him; sometimes they did, but he hasn’t had company for a hunt in days, the whole clan seemed on the verge of collapse.

His paws nearly skidded off the waterfall path as a terrible cough wreaked his fragile form. Chim gasped for breath as he struggled to suppress the twisting inside of him, determined to remain calm, to keep control, to refuse his illness. He had noticed it creeping for a day or two now, and he couldn’t let anyone know; couldn’t let them try and confine him to a den, not when they were so desperate for food.