He was used to feeling like shit. This wasn't anything new, so why did he feel so bad? Snot ran from his nose and his stomach churned, yet he hadn't eaten anything in what felt like days. The water he drank earlier was already long gone, left somewhere near the river he drank it from. What could have made him feel so sick? Had that rabbit he had a week ago been too rotten? He'd eaten worse, he was sure. But this- this was not the kind of 'feeling like shit' he was used to. He was used to blood, wounds, sores, weakness that stemmed from being beaten and abused... even occasionally starved, but this was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

He was barely walking now, dragging his paws through the grass between trees of this forest. Or at least he hoped it was a forest- he'd started hallucinating hours ago so for all he knew these trees were a part of it. They seemed like they were moving, standing still in one place before appearing before him suddenly. His eyes were hard to keep open but they were- he couldn't close them, he couldn't give up... even if it sounded like the right thing to do.

As he expected, another tree appeared before him... but this one, this one was solid. He walked face first into it and toppled, a string of curse words coming out of him no louder than a hoarse mumble. Now laying crumpled on the ground at the base of a sturdy tree trunk, he groaned and his head spun, throbbed even. He tried to pull his legs beneath him to stand, but he could barely even do that let alone support his own weight. Maybe just a little nap... maybe then he would feel okay.

Oleander lifted the basket with his teeth after picking a promising mushroom. He breathed in deeply, the cool smell of the Red Forest entered his dark nose and soothed his stressed thin body. His fur unkempt and looking a little skinnier than normal he walked over the spring ground. The pines overhead made this place a sanctuary of herbal growth and healthy trees and... prey?

He sighed as he saw a squirrel climbing and leaping in tight circles, only able to move left. It was an easy grab of its head and a soft crunch to put it out of its misery. He swallowed the blood on his tongue and dropped the squirrel. He shook his head, the blight would reach here in no time at all.

He picked up his basket again, unsure if the herbs here would be suitable now when he suddenly heard something between the trees.

A string of curse words and the sounds of a body hitting the ground. The white male froze for a moment before he peered around the tree trunk. A smaller skeletal form was struggling to stand back up. He looked really bad. Old scars, half a tail, chopped ears. Poor guy was probably a slave... Maybe some kind of bait for a fighting pit. The guy was already trussed up and definitely sick, with the way he was swaying and struggling to get up.

Ollie wasn't going to leave him here if he could help it.

"Heyy there." He called out softly, still several tail lengths away from him. The basket at his feet again.

"Not feeling good huh?" He asked the stranger. There was going to be no way this guy was going to make it to quarentine without touching or supporting him. It was inevitable, Ollie had already felt the tremors and the shadows around his vision. The quarantine was pointless, it had already taken Tethys and she wasn't even in the woods.

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

I sold my soul to my disguise
I hid myself to stay alive

He... did not feel alright. Maybe it was something he ate? He was used to eating the leftovers, scraps that were no longer fresh. It didn't make sense, but with how hard his head was throbbing he couldn't think, and despite laying on the ground he felt dizzy as the world spun around him. His head felt heavy and part of him wanted to just sleep. He was about to give in to the overwhelming urge to close his eyes when there was a voice.

Eyes crossed and tried to refocus many times on the pale man, but it was hard to focus on just one of them when there was a clone of him on either side moving around as his eyes tried to lock onto him. He felt drunk really, but he'd been shitfaced before and this was worse─ so much worse.

"Youthink?-hmph," he slurred before losing what little composure he had and slumping to the ground, laid flat out on his side. "The fffuck-" he tried to speak, but it was muffled and slurred like before. "-is wrong wiv me?"

Speech ─ Think

─ by Skelle !

During this this thread: Let The Wind Eavesdrop

The smaller male was all kinds of fucked up. Oleander observed for a good few breaths as the other man rallied his senses but to no avail. Ollie swung his white tail behind him in thought. He'd have to leave the basket here, this guy wasn't going to be walking anywhere.

"I have an idea... There's a blight south of here. You might have caught it. I'm working on a cure. If you come with me I can help you out." Bas would probably mind if he brought in another straggler... But what was he gonna do? This guy was obviously sick with the blight they already were suffering from... Why not bring this guy in, heal him up, and see what happens? Should probably bring him through the mile high woods, and talk to Bas about the pointless quarantine.
He had already figured out they weren't getting sick from each other, it was the fungus from the meat and the trees.

"I'll just get you on my back and I'll carry you to my place. Get you some medicine to help you feel better. Yeah?" Oleander started to shimmy the smaller and very banged-up wolf over his back. To carry him draped over his shoulders. What had this poor guy gone through, he wondered. He'd make sure his passenger was situated and ready. "You all right up there?" Hopefully, he won't vomit on him. He probably will it though, was one of the symptoms.

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

I sold my soul to my disguise
I hid myself to stay alive

He was losing his ability to stay conscious, fighting left and right to stay awake but he was fighting a losing battle. Even the words the stranger said to him were fading out and gibberish, something about blight? What was that? He was definitely sick though, so whatever it was, he trusted the stranger that he had in fact caught it. Though with the way he was feeling, the mention of a cure seemed like a joke and he almost laughed however he lacked the energy for it.

Before he knew it he was being hoisted up onto the others back and although his eyes opened wide in surprise, his vision was blurry at best. The movement made his head spin more than it already was. The mention of medicine to make him feel better seemed like a stretch. Maybe feel better really had a hidden meaning. Would this stranger put him out of his misery? Seemed silly to carry him off someplace to do it, but his mind wasn't in the right place to think too hard about it or even judge him for it. Frankly, he hoped that's what he was going to do.

"Mmm... hmmm," he hummed as he laid flopped over the other mans back, but he wasn't fine... not really. He wasn't falling off if that's what he meant, but no... there was nothing about him that was fine... certainly he knew that, though.

Speech ─ Think

─ by Skelle !

The affirmative hum over his shoulder told him what he needed. With a nod, Oleander set off at a brisk pace, toward the Mile High Woods. Ignita would have already rifled through the samples and come to a similar conclusion about the sources of the sickness. The meeting between the minds would have just broken up by now. The quarantine decidedly ended and the sick wolves started to be brought into the warrens. Oleander had been out foraging though and would not have known about these particular events.

Oleander approached the edge of the Mile High Woods, the dark limp form of a slave over his shoulders. He was going to start getting a savior complex and a reputation at this rate. He lifted his voice for The Warlord to meet him at the northern edge and continued his pace inside the Woods toward the Col. His voice had an urgent but unhurried tone. He knew the Warlord would not be expecting him here.

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

The Warlord had every intention of heading immediately to his den to get a proper night's sleep with Ignita. Now that the quarantine was lifted, he could finally share in the moments of pregnancy with her. Instead, a call caught his attention. Summoning him to the border.

The sound of Oleander his lead healer, could not be ignored. Not in the Blight, likely not ever. So he told Ignita he would meet her in the den, with a stern warning not to follow, and trotted to the border. Skirting close to the blight infected woods in order to reach the Red Forest.

He frowned when he saw his healer with another wolf slung over their shoulder. The moment eerily familiar to the moment Oleander had returned with another little wolf. “Whats this?” He asked softly.

"Basilisk"

Oleander didn't have to wait long for Bas to arrive. He barely looked up when he did.
"Another mouth to feed and waste resources on until they're healed enough to bite me." He sassed. Thankfully the little guy was out, Ollie wouldn't be talking to the Warlord like that in public, generally, when he wasn't exhausted and feeling like shit himself.

"Sorry. He's infected, figured I'd take him home to keep him from spreading it to the redwoods and beyond. I'll head back out and grab my basket after I set him up. I couldn't leave him out there." Ollie looked up then, pausing his walking toward the Col. From the look of Bas... He had it too. Awesome. Excellent. Just what they needed. Vesper must be rubbing off on him.


"Speech"