Birds chirped as the sun faintly crested the hills, dousing the camp in erene pink light. It was a bitterly cold morning, with still many of RiverClan’s Warriors curled up in their nests and reluctant to do otherwise. But the dawn patrol was calling many of their names, and Blankstone was unfortunately one of them.
The pure white she-cat sat up in her den, fur flat on one side from a restless sleep. She immediately knew something was off, though she couldn’t quite place her paw on it. Her body felt cammy, and everything just seemed….funny. When her eyes fell on Swanpath’s sleeping form she let out a snort of a giggle. A feather was stuck to her denmate’s face. It shouldn’t have been funny,and yet it irrevocably was.
Blankstone staggered to her feet and made her way to the den exit. Each step was a mighty challenge, for she couldn’t quite see straight. But she’d be damned if she missed out on…
She’d tripped over a sleeping cat near the den mouth. Her belly rested squarely on their side, from half sprawling while her back legs kept trying to walk as though unaware of the obstruction. Whoever it was smelled very warm and very sweet, so much so that she held no doubts about just who it was in spite of her swimming vision.
“Goldenswaaaannnn…” She meowed loudly in her friend’s ear. “It’s time to get upppp…..we gotta go…gotta go play..” Then she burst into a fit of giggles at her own word choice. She’d meant to say something like work, or duty, but this had come out instead somehow and that whole affair was too hilarious for the obviously sick she-cat to handle.