as the fit subsides, Jamie becomes aware of a familiar presence settling beside her. glancing up, she meets uncle Ollie’s green gaze, little face twisting into a scowl of displeasure. “it’s not fair,” she sighs, slumping against him. his fur is soft, and she rests her head against his flank, needing the physical comfort. “everyone else can do anything they want, all the time! but sometimes…” their voice lowers, eyes averting with a rush of shame. “sometimes i can’t even…get up. Mama has to stay with me all day.” she’s not quite old enough to be cognisant of that feeling, that choking fear that she’s a burden, but - it isn’t fair on Mama either, is it? what is she really wants to go out and play while Jamie’s sick?
Jamie sits up suddenly, a thought occurring. her expression brightens, tail thumping excitedly along the ground. “hey, uncle Ollie, you’re a tama spesh-specshalisht. can you make me better? then i can finally beat Bal and Iska in a race!” she doesn’t realise that if Ollie had had the power to, he’d have cured himself; in her eager mind, the solution makes perfect sense.
