Can Someone Be My Guardian Angel?

Félicien had gotten sick. His sickness grew worse rapidly, causing the brute to shift away from making any sort of attempt at making himself useful in pack life. His head throbbed, his chest hurt, and it was hard to breathe. He had thought to see his mother or Sorrel for herbs but... by the time he had acknowledged how sick that he was Féli found it too much of a struggle to leave his den, especially with the snow on the ground, and left himself holed up, miserable, and getting weaker with each bit of passing time. 


When was the last time he had gotten water? Food? The young male didn't know. If his body wasn't burning with fever it was cold, even if to the touch it burned. When he coughed he'd hack up all manner of grossness from his mouth, sometimes flecked with blood. It was the sickness he contracted when he was younger all over again, though surely this wasn't the epidemic returned? No blood came from his eyes but... he was miserable... and the onset was so sudden... would... would he die?


Bi-colored eyes would close, a weak whine leaving his muzzle.


He didn't want to die.