Chapter 24
Go, maggot brain, go.
Aspenpaw was awoken by a sneeze, his own, and before he could begin to orient himself, he already feared that he was sick.
His body was filled with chills and he could barely breathe through his nose.
As everything came back to him, Aspenpaw laid with his eyes closed, just reflecting on how everything had gone wrong.
Perhaps he shouldn't have had faith in any of these cats; he would always be a stranger to them, an outsider, and perhaps he shouldn't have gone so far that he would lose his way back, but he still felt betrayed by the fact that none of them had tried to help until he had nearly died trying to return to them.
Finally, he opened up to the dull light.
The room was cave-like, wide and tall, the ceiling curving at the cornices, but its shallow light and dusty atmosphere reminded Aspenpaw so much of the communes first home.
It felt so long ago now that Jingo had taken him there, and to Deya's credit, it was almost a repeat that he was again sick in this new place.
Rese was the only other cat that Aspenpaw could see, tucked up in the corner between the far wall and one that jut out, capturing nearly a quarter of the space to hide some backroom that he couldn't see into from here.
She was asleep, and Aspenpaw wondered if her wounds from the battle with Jean's cats had gotten infected or hadn't healed properly in some way that would continue to confine her to a nest.
Aspenpaw had no concept of time down here, and headache and shivering had seized him too much to venture out from the room.
He didn't even have a nest to rest in.
Beyond the most basic memories and observations, Aspenpaw couldn't think clearly.
It was as though there were walls behind every thought that he had to break down to reach them.
Hopefully Roco would give him some sort of treatment for his painful chills, but even with the pain, the drowsiness overcame all else and Aspenpaw could think of nothing more than to place his head back on his paws and shut his eyes to the world.
Aspenpaw was in and out of sleep for quite a while.
It seemed like every few minutes he would become aware of himself again and roll over, sneeze, and try to cover the coldest parts of his body before slipping back into sleep, never once opening his eyes.
He could've been doing that for days on end and he wouldn't know it at all; he was trapped entirely in this cycle.
At some point or another, he swore that he heard a voice calling out softly to him.
He tried to respond, only managing to groan out a guttural, "Huh?"
His vocal cords were as numb as the rest of his body, not able to feel the pain of sickness.
It was a surreal feeling, but a familiar one, "C-Could you, could y-you roll over, p-please?" The voice was clearer now, and Aspenpaw realized that it must be real.
Faintly, he could recognize that it must be Roco.
Despite how she feared toms, the she-cat had never done anything to hurt him, and Aspenpaw was glad to have her by his side now, mumbling out "Thank you" the only thing he could think to say.
He did his best to do as she requested, facing towards where he thought she was.
Aspenpaw tried to open his eyes, but even the dark light of the room was too bright to look at for more than a couple seconds in squints,
"A-Are, you in pain?" Roco asked,
"Mm-no,"
"C-Could you e-e-eat, could you have, t-these? P-Please?" Aspenpaw opened his eyes for a moment again and saw herbs that he didn't recognize on the ground before him. He trusted Roco, however, and lapped them up,
"Could you wa-warm, h-him?" Aspenpaw didn't understand but was still about to respond, his mouth full of juices, when another response was given,
"Alright," Deya's soft voice made him flinch, and she quickly laid on his chest, sending more shivers through Aspenpaw's spine.
He couldn't fight back against her, but even if he could, he probably wouldn't have.
He was upset at her, but it felt so good to be beside her like this,
"Ne-Next time-time, h-he wakes, gi-give, somethin' to eat," Roco quickly removed herself after giving Deya one last instruction, and just as fast, Aspenpaw felt the drowsiness return.
It felt so much worse than last time, and he tried to recite Jingo's song in his head, but after the first few words, the rest escaped him, and he wandered back into the eclipsing darkness.
When Aspenpaw next awoke he was confronted by the scent of meat lying before his nose.
Deya was still there on top of him, but she must have felt him moving about because she relieved her weight from his chest and whispered to him cautiously, "I got you a mouse, As. Roco said you gotta eat,"
Aspenpaw didn't want to respond, but he flickered his eyes and saw briefly her solemn face.
He used all of what little energy he had and shifted his body onto his stomach so he could eat.
He didn't feel very cold anymore, but he didn't feel much of anything at all.
His body was numb, and even the taste of the meat was dull.
He focused on the grimy texture, how the blood sloshed in his mouth.
It reminded him of sometime when it was his own blood in his mouth, but maybe that was just a dream; his memories were all out of order right now.
Deya tried speaking again, and Aspenpaw didn't know how to feel, "I'm so sorry. I'm not a good she-cat, I know. If you don't wanna stay around anymore, then, then I wish you luck wherever you go,"
It was an uncomfortable apology for Aspenpaw, who had no idea what would come next and had no way of focusing on anything right now.
His emotions were in disarray. He had never been faced with such a conflicting decision; even when he decided to leave the forest, the answer seemed clear, even if it hurt.
Here, he was just confused.
After only a few bites, Aspenpaw flopped over again, coughing on a drop of blood in his throat.
It was a few moments before Deya slowly reapplied herself to his form. Aspenpaw tried to think of everything they had gone through, but all his thoughts led back to the same place; right where he was.
Aspenpaw was no longer able to open his eyes, and still they stayed in squints, not able to block out enough light.
His body was vaguely cold, but what affected him the most was the delirium.
He never felt fully awake nor completely asleep; everything was just fuzzy.
He remembered feeling upset, but his mind was blank now.
The amount of time that passed was completely unknown to Aspenpaw, but Deya had been by his side the entire time.
She had spoken to him each time he awoke, just morsels of conversation that Aspenpaw couldn't help but find endearing.
He had barely been able to respond to her before, and now, she sounded so far away, like from the bottom of an ocean.
He felt like he was dying, like everything was over. He remembered the feelings of everything he had gone through to get to be dying in a foreign twoleg building, crumpled on the ground with no nest but a friend beside him.
It was only now that he felt how much time had gone.
It had been a long time since he left the forest.
He wasn't a clan cat anymore; he had spent nearly the same amount of time as one than as he hadn't.
He had only known Rustheart and Loneheart for a couple moons before he fled into exile, and what connection to them did he have then?
They were so far away, just like Acornpaw.
It had never occurred to him before that he would spend more time without his brother than with him.
Did he deserve to still be alive when he wasn't?
Before, he would have known the answer, he would have known that he shouldn't be alive, and that he was a coward for running from everything.
But now, in and out between sleep and reality, and perhaps, in and out between life and death, the answer became muddled.
He had tried so hard, and if he could, he would continue on.
He was right to try to help.
He had known that in the past, but he felt it now.
He wanted to share his empathy, and show somebody his love, and give the chances to life that he didn't have anymore.
But maybe he did, and maybe that was the only reason why he lived.