watch the hospital that's just across the street ━ sick

[RED]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"]If the question here was how much vomit constituted being really, really sick, Arrow took the cake. Or the Pepto Bismol, maybe.

The place stinks - more so than usual - and out of a faint, irritated curiosity as to who spilled their guts out one end or another in the middle of camp, Red finds himself staring at a half-collapsed feline and an equally confused peer. She's hurt, he first considers, and his initial annoyance fades - but then he puts the pieces together and realizes Arrow is the source of that acrid smell that taints the air. His expression falls into something more sympathetic.

Their clanmate says something distantly, a comment about her appearance. Unnecessary, maybe, but since he doesn't know Leroy by name he figures he'll call him Captain Obvious until further notice. He looks at canine with a fairly solid are-you-kidding-me expression. A sneer, a squint, the whole works. Of course she needed some water, she looked like she was about to spontaneously combust. "Bet."

When Red approaches Arrow he's careful, one hand extended to offer her some balance. They hadn't met before. This wasn't exactly a perfect circumstance, but he supposed it was better now than later, considering her deteriorating condition. He hoped she wasn't too put off by his sudden appearance, but it wasn't the time for exchanging names and backstories. "That's got to be internal bleeding, something like that. Ick."

Red glances at the sickly pile, lip pulling to the side in mild disgust. It was dark, almost congealed, which wasn't a good sign by most medical standards - then again, he'd seen worse. It was probably cancer or something terrible along those lines, but he wasn't going to just tell her that. If she was lucky, with the kind of medicine they handed to people out here in the sticks, she had a few weeks left. A month was a miracle by his guess. But considering the weird magic that flowed in the veins of particular individuals, there was a reasonable chance that Arrow would be cured by some strange means.

(They could transfer all of the illness onto a bug or something. He wasn't really sure how all of that worked, he just went with it.)

But everything aside, she was still here, still sick, and she needed a medic as soon as they could find her one. With the same hand, he reaches gently to touch her temple, should she allow the contact. He can feel the abnormal warmth radiating off of her body regardless. He squats down and pats the dirt at his side, a mild encouragement. "Come on, sit down, you're burning up. Let's get you cleaned up, ok?"