Scat Cat

Aris trotted along the pack's border glumly. Many in her family were sick to some degree or another. Others in the pack, as well. It felt decidedly odd to be one of the few who had repeated exposure who hadn't fallen ill, and she wasn't sure whether she felt relieved, proud, or guilty about that. Her not being sick did make her a lot busier, though it wasn't very productive busywork. Patrol, sleep, patrol, sleep, sometimes hunt with Tansy though the cat was much more efficient without company and hunted alone the whole time Aris patrolled anyway to make sure the sick stayed fed. There wasn't anything she, not being trained, could do to help heal the sick but worry.

Things seemed to be in a holding pattern now, though. No one was getting sicker, and as far as she knew there hadn't been any new cases either. Maybe they were through the worst of it, and things would get back to normal. They could get back to the training that had been interrupted by the illness and the necessary quarantines, and after brushing up on skills gone stagnant from endless patrols and little else Aris could challenge for the Reaper spot she'd been coveting since she'd been a pup. Right now though, they were spread too thinly to cover everything and train together while also keeping the sick quarantined away from the healthy, so she'd been putting it off.

In the middle of yet another up-to-now uneventful patrol, Aris was both surprised and elated when she caught the fresh scent of a lynx moving deeper into their territory. Finally, something to do! Even in a pack full of healthy, adult wolves a lynx would be a less-than-ideal interloper. For a pack of sick wolves, with young pups in the den? She was going to make sure it left pack lands like its stubby tail was on fire.

But in following the scent Aris realized that there was even more reason to send it packing - the scent carried the now-familiar smell of ooze. It was spreading its contaminants everywhere! When the lynx's crystal-incrusted form came into view, slinking along drooling long strings of nasty ooze from its mouth and nose, Aris didn't even hesitate before she threw herself at it with a snarl. After all, she was pretty sure that she was immune, given the amount of times she'd been exposed, so she wasn't worried about contracting the disease. She was worried about it being there even a second longer than necessary. They fell into a hissing, spitting, snarling ball of rage together.

For a moment neither had the upper paw, but Aris was able to finally get her oversized canines buried into the cat's leg and crunch down on it, feeling the foreleg crack under the pressure. Ooze madness or not, the lynx felt that and instead of continuing the fight it fought instead to get away, and Aris let go of her grip. She followed on the cat's heels as it legged it - well, three-legged it, with the cracked foreleg raised and bleeding - all the way to the border and over it.

The cat was still sprinting when Aris finally stopped and watched it leave, grinning in satisfaction. Of course the expression pulled at claw marks on her face, reminding her that she may have gotten the best of the lynx but she hadn't come out unscathed. At the reminder her other cuts and bites and bruises began to clamor that they, too, were pretty ouchy. Aris ignored them for a moment to continue to scan around her for any signs that the lynx might be making a return, or that the commotion had attracted further attention from some other curious or hungry predator.

Nothing seemed particularly untoward, though, so Aris returned to pack lands to meticulously gather up every trace of the cat's blood and spoor from its short travels in the pack lands. She found a crystal that she'd managed to knock off it in the fight and regretted that it was way too risky to keep as a souvenir, so it too went into the bin. She dragged it out far beyond the territory - cleaning up the cat's blood on the way, and then set it on fire. She then returned to pack lands and picked up some particularly harsh and undrinkable alcohol to disinfect what she could (pouring some on her wounds both deliberately and accidentally as she went, doing her best not to yelp at the burn) - she didn't know if what she was doing was actually disinfecting the traces of the disease the cat had brought, or if it even mattered given the inevitable exposure to sick pack wolves anyway, but she made what effort she could to make sure that the other healthy wolves stayed that way.

Task complete, she went to go rummage around for some wound healing salve. She used it sparingly, though, knowing that they needed it for the sick who had sores and wounds from the disease and would likely run low. And then, back to patrolling she went. Another day, another patrol.

Total Word Count: 860