After the initial "i'm home" anxieties, he felt a bit calmer. He didn't quiet fear leaving his den as much as he had, but maybe that was because the packlands were quiet due to the sickness that was spreading. He constantly had medicinal herbs tucked away in his little bag that might help whomever he came across. Abaven would pull through it, he knew. Everyone was healthy, well fed. He doubted anyone would succumb to an illness like this, but one couldn't be sure. So he was vigilant. Exhausted, but vigilant. Even if it did take him far too long to sort through his herbs, even if he had to force himself like he never had to before, he would do everything he could to help his packmates. But he couldn't help but think about his other friends. He couldn't stop thinking about Cathaoir, and worried about his health, or about Jaelle. He hoped they were okay, and under the care of knowledgable and competant healers. He hoped, he hoped. With a sigh, he shook the thought from his head and continued on, knowing worrying about them wouldn't help his family here. He just had to keep searching for herbs that might be useful, had to keep...keep going with this, because he needed too. Had too. "Burn Baby Burn" || "Bruciare Bambino Bruciare"

Lark felt absolutely terrible. His cold - or that was what he thought it was - was steadily getting worse. The slight tickle in his chest has blossomed into a full-blown cough now, and his chest felt congested and heavy. Not only that, but his whole body felt unusually hot - he felt feverish and weak, not at all like his normal self. It didn't seem anything worth panicking over, but it felt like there was no end for this sickness in sight. Most sicknesses would get bad, and then slowly better.. but he just felt worse each day. He panted softly as he moved from the rapids. The movement of the water, the gentle spraying over the edge of the banks offered a nice reprieve from the fever that wracked his body. But he figured he ought to find one of his siblings and ask if they had anything that might lift the fever and maybe calm his anxious mind. He was having trouble focusing on anything - even walking made him feel unsteady on all four paws, and he swore he was swaying as he stood and made his way away from the rapids. He caught a whiff of Starling quite quickly, and his pace would increase - but so did his shallow panting. "Hey," he'd call out softly, closing his eyes briefly to steady his pawsteps. "What's up?" His voice was a bit wary - he hadn't talked to Starling openly for awhile, and he didn't want to seem like he was only coming to him because he wasn't feeling well.

Starling kept walking through the rapids, feeling the familiare moisture in the air sink into his fur. And yet, it brought no happiness to him, didn't make him feel the overwhelming feeling of home that he usually felt. Instead all he felt was the cold in every strand of his fur, and a lack of comfort. He didn't know when the shift happened, maybe it was his most recent stint of scarcity. Maybe it was that the little voice in his head finally won and made him feel like a stranger in his own home. Either way, it stole the air from his lungs just long enough that he had to gasp for a breath. Just as he seemed to get control of himself again, he caught the scent of sickness. It was strong, and moving closer to him. Quickly he looked around before he finally spotted Lark, and a new breathlessness took over him. This time, panic. He stared at him with eyes a little too wide as his brother approached him, unmoving and unspeaking until Lark broke the silence. The soft words threw Starling through the loop, and for a moment he just stared at his elder brother when he finally realized that the silence had stretched on a few moment too long. "Umh.." He whispered softly, at a loss for words before he cleared his throat. "H-hi.." He whispered, shifting on his paws a little awkwardly. "H-how are you f-feeling?" "Burn Baby Burn" || "Bruciare Bambino Bruciare"

He didn't want things to be awkward between he and Starling. Did he harbor some frustration at how his brother had acted at that meeting last season? Yes. Did he feel like their relationship was extremely strained? Of course. But he loved him still, and though he was a bit disappointed, he wouldn't let that get in the way of the simple fact that they were family. He couldn't imagine straying too far from any of siblings, unless they did something honestly terrible. He fought back a sigh as Starling came into view, his pace increasing slightly as he aimed to close the distance that separated them. Lark was glad to see Starling again.. it'd been awhile. He didn't know if his brother would want to talk at all about things - it might be nice to make sure neither of them felt any sort of strange tension, for he would hate for them to feel uncomfortable around each other - but even if not, he was happy to see him. Feeling a tickle in the back ofhis throat, he tried to fight away a cough, rather unsuccessfully. "Not great," he would answer easily, feeling as though honesty was the best idea. Lark didn't want to seem whiny, but he figured Starling would be able to tell quite quickly that he was sick, and not just being dramatic. "This cold is getting worse every day." Surely he'd get better soon though, right? His jaws unhinged again, panting softly as he felt an uncomfortable wave of heat wash over him. "How have you been?"

There was an awkwardness, a tension, but perhaps it was mainly one sided. Starling constantly felt awkward, it was true, but it was getting worse lately. He was often in his own mind, and his mind was not the kindness of friends. But Lark's gentle voice brought Starling back from his thoughts, and he stared at his big brother for another moment too long. He was waiting. Waiting for the yelling, for the guilt. Waiting for Lark to reprimand him. Everyone reprimanded him. Loyalty, he had a duty to do. He was an Abaven wolf, he shouldn't be leaving so much. But he couldn't remembering anyone really asking why. Why he left, why he felt like an imposter in his own skin. He let out a soundless sigh as Lark confirmed his sickness, and he slowly nodded, his mind quickly reeling to the analytical side, searching through his stored herbs and the ones he had kept on hand. Ever since this sickness has spread through the pack he had adjusted the herbs he kept in his bag, and it seemed they would come of use. "Wh-what are your symptoms?" He asked softly, his voice steadier than it had been as he shifted into healer mode. It was the only time he really felt alive, really felt like he belonged and was doing good. Only, the guilt followed him here now, as well. It shook within the recesses of his mind, a monster bristled and hissing as he tried to step around it to find the knowledge and facts he had lodged in his never ending thoughts. He nearly missed Lark's question, but when it finally caught up to him he felt his lungs still again before he forced another breath. "B-better than y-you, it seems." He tried for a joke, a small smile on his lips as he looked at Lark. He didn't want to get into it, into the truth of it. No one seemed to understand, not Finch, not their father...not even Lark, his hero and his idol. His smile wavered slightly as he shifted his gaze away then, trying to get back to the task at hand, sorting mentally through his herbs to find the best medicine to help Lark feel better. "Burn Baby Burn" || "Bruciare Bambino Bruciare"