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Description
   Mirepaw lay in the medicine den, head throbbing in waves of sporadic pain, only sometimes being relieved by a cloudiness that left him wondering where he was. Somehow, he wasn't really sure how he got this sick, he had come down with white cough. What had first started as a sniffle and a confident 'I can work through this, Ravenwatcher, don't worry' had quickly become a crippling illness that had Fenpaw dragging him to the medicine den after Mirepaw had spent the entire night shaking violently with a fever. Things had only gone down hill further while Mirepaw was in the medicine den. Determined to not spend his last days as an apprentice stuck in the medicine den with the dumb medicine cats, especially Batpaw, he had attempted more than once to go out and hunt. His missions were quickly derailed though as either when he stood up a wave of nausea and dizziness hit him or someone was there to prevent him from freedom.

   Those botched attempts had led to where Mirepaw was now. Laying down in his nest and being miserable as the white cough took a turn for the worst despite him yelling at his body to do its job and get better. And you know. Breathe. And not be on fire and ice cold at the same time. Stopping the shaking would be nice, too. But instead his body didn't obey and not even the nasty herbs the Shadowclan medicine cats had given him helped that much- at that point many said it was all in Starclan's paws. That was fox dung. He could beat the stupid white cough on his own. Through some miracle, Mirepaw was lucid enough to be thinking these thoughts, which led him to being bored.

   He had already tried fighting with Batpaw by making fun of her some more, but between her work and how Mirepaw devolved into coughing so often that quickly became more of a chore than something to distract the brown apprentice. Fenpaw had sometimes stopped by, and so had a few of the other apprentices- which he didn't appreciate. They could mind their own business and not gawk at him for being so sick. Let him be miserable in peace. Sometimes in his fever-haze where the world was just blurry colors, jumbled thoughts, and muted noises Mirepaw thought he saw Waspstorm, Ravenwatcher, and Sleekstar- although he doubted all of those except dumb Waspstorm. His old mentor couldn't understand he didn't want anything to do with someone who supported traitors.

   Recently though, Mirepaw thought he was getting a little better. While he still was very much sick, he had managed to stay awake all day. Mostly. Feeling confident, the apprentice tried to get up from his nest, quickly regretting everything he ever did that meant Starclan punished him this way. Vertigo overtook him and Mirepaw instantly fell down, feeling like he was going to hurl all the herbs he had been forced to eat on the floor. Clamping down his jaw, he waited for what felt like eternity for the nausea and dizziness to leave him. Nose scrunching, Mirepaw snarled at nothing. Why did he have to go and get sick? It was dumb.

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   Days had passed and Mirepaw lay in the medicine den, not all there. He vaguely remembered Fenpaw- no wait. Fenthorn. His brother had become a warrior. Without him. Fenthorn. Fenthorn had come into the medicine den with his new name to check in on Mirepaw as the apprentice's health continued to deteriorate. Something was said. Mirepaw swore his brother had said something. He didn't remember. Sleekstar had also come in maybe? Had she come? Did she see how weak he had become? How the white cough had taken Mirepaw's body and left him useless? He didn't want that. He really hoped she didn't come to see him. He hoped Ravenwatcher didn't come either. She already thought he was weak- she didn't need the confirmation.

   Mirepaw stared at the wall of the medicine den, the random patterns of rock and leaves making faces and figures in his vision. Sometimes they were cats he recognized, sometimes they resembled the flashing images of his nightmares. Other times it was just colorful blobs. Currently though, Mirepaw only saw hazy shadows. His fever had peaked and yet he shook violently in his nest, breathing labored as he fought against a cough. He had heard Muddynose earlier, and he was vaguely certain the medicine cat had said Mirepaw would be lucky to survive the night. He'd show him. Maybe.

   At that point, dying didn't seem too bad. He was absolutely miserable and currently the only thing driving him was spite. If Starclan wanted him that badly before he completed his goals then he would make sure he raised hell for them. Hacking out a cough, the brown apprentice glanced around the den, vision swimming. Batpaw, Newtpaw, and Muddynose were asleep- it seemed his illness wasn't enough to wake them. Settling back in his nest as the strain from trying to see clearly gave him a head ache, Mirepaw shut his eyes. Shadows bounced around on his eyelids and honestly he felt really thirsty.

   Putting a paw down to try and get up, Mirepaw quickly gave up when his muscles just decided to take an off day. He couldn't even push himself off of the ground, never mind walking across the den for water. And he sure as heck wouldn't call out for help even if he could speak without feeling like his throat had a hedgehog bouncing around in it. Curling up tighter, Mirepaw resigned himself to a long night. He would ride it out and show Muddynose he was strong enough to fight some stupid sickness. It wasn't easy though to even fall asleep. Thoughts of 'what if he's right' bounced around in Mirepaw's head, giving him a boost of awareness from his spike in anxiety. His shaking left him always in some way uncomfortable. The fever had him turning to the best of his ability to get cooler. He would just have to ride it out. He would.

   He would survive.

[Word count: 1,023]

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Mirepaw is sick oh no

Description
   Mirepaw lay in the medicine den, head throbbing in waves of sporadic pain, only sometimes being relieved by a cloudiness that left him wondering where he was. Somehow, he wasn't really sure how he got this sick, he had come down with white cough. What had first started as a sniffle and a confident 'I can work through this, Ravenwatcher, don't worry' had quickly become a crippling illness that had Fenpaw dragging him to the medicine den after Mirepaw had spent the entire night shaking violently with a fever. Things had only gone down hill further while Mirepaw was in the medicine den. Determined to not spend his last days as an apprentice stuck in the medicine den with the dumb medicine cats, especially Batpaw, he had attempted more than once to go out and hunt. His missions were quickly derailed though as either when he stood up a wave of nausea and dizziness hit him or someone was there to prevent him from freedom.

   Those botched attempts had led to where Mirepaw was now. Laying down in his nest and being miserable as the white cough took a turn for the worst despite him yelling at his body to do its job and get better. And you know. Breathe. And not be on fire and ice cold at the same time. Stopping the shaking would be nice, too. But instead his body didn't obey and not even the nasty herbs the Shadowclan medicine cats had given him helped that much- at that point many said it was all in Starclan's paws. That was fox dung. He could beat the stupid white cough on his own. Through some miracle, Mirepaw was lucid enough to be thinking these thoughts, which led him to being bored.

   He had already tried fighting with Batpaw by making fun of her some more, but between her work and how Mirepaw devolved into coughing so often that quickly became more of a chore than something to distract the brown apprentice. Fenpaw had sometimes stopped by, and so had a few of the other apprentices- which he didn't appreciate. They could mind their own business and not gawk at him for being so sick. Let him be miserable in peace. Sometimes in his fever-haze where the world was just blurry colors, jumbled thoughts, and muted noises Mirepaw thought he saw Waspstorm, Ravenwatcher, and Sleekstar- although he doubted all of those except dumb Waspstorm. His old mentor couldn't understand he didn't want anything to do with someone who supported traitors.

   Recently though, Mirepaw thought he was getting a little better. While he still was very much sick, he had managed to stay awake all day. Mostly. Feeling confident, the apprentice tried to get up from his nest, quickly regretting everything he ever did that meant Starclan punished him this way. Vertigo overtook him and Mirepaw instantly fell down, feeling like he was going to hurl all the herbs he had been forced to eat on the floor. Clamping down his jaw, he waited for what felt like eternity for the nausea and dizziness to leave him. Nose scrunching, Mirepaw snarled at nothing. Why did he have to go and get sick? It was dumb.

---

   Days had passed and Mirepaw lay in the medicine den, not all there. He vaguely remembered Fenpaw- no wait. Fenthorn. His brother had become a warrior. Without him. Fenthorn. Fenthorn had come into the medicine den with his new name to check in on Mirepaw as the apprentice's health continued to deteriorate. Something was said. Mirepaw swore his brother had said something. He didn't remember. Sleekstar had also come in maybe? Had she come? Did she see how weak he had become? How the white cough had taken Mirepaw's body and left him useless? He didn't want that. He really hoped she didn't come to see him. He hoped Ravenwatcher didn't come either. She already thought he was weak- she didn't need the confirmation.

   Mirepaw stared at the wall of the medicine den, the random patterns of rock and leaves making faces and figures in his vision. Sometimes they were cats he recognized, sometimes they resembled the flashing images of his nightmares. Other times it was just colorful blobs. Currently though, Mirepaw only saw hazy shadows. His fever had peaked and yet he shook violently in his nest, breathing labored as he fought against a cough. He had heard Muddynose earlier, and he was vaguely certain the medicine cat had said Mirepaw would be lucky to survive the night. He'd show him. Maybe.

   At that point, dying didn't seem too bad. He was absolutely miserable and currently the only thing driving him was spite. If Starclan wanted him that badly before he completed his goals then he would make sure he raised hell for them. Hacking out a cough, the brown apprentice glanced around the den, vision swimming. Batpaw, Newtpaw, and Muddynose were asleep- it seemed his illness wasn't enough to wake them. Settling back in his nest as the strain from trying to see clearly gave him a head ache, Mirepaw shut his eyes. Shadows bounced around on his eyelids and honestly he felt really thirsty.

   Putting a paw down to try and get up, Mirepaw quickly gave up when his muscles just decided to take an off day. He couldn't even push himself off of the ground, never mind walking across the den for water. And he sure as heck wouldn't call out for help even if he could speak without feeling like his throat had a hedgehog bouncing around in it. Curling up tighter, Mirepaw resigned himself to a long night. He would ride it out and show Muddynose he was strong enough to fight some stupid sickness. It wasn't easy though to even fall asleep. Thoughts of 'what if he's right' bounced around in Mirepaw's head, giving him a boost of awareness from his spike in anxiety. His shaking left him always in some way uncomfortable. The fever had him turning to the best of his ability to get cooler. He would just have to ride it out. He would.

   He would survive.

[Word count: 1,023]

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Mirepaw is sick oh no