"You can't do this to yourself," Darksong begs, his usually stoic and rough voice pitched with desperation as you move around the medicine den, caring for the rest of the sick cats with greencough - what you're supposed to do as the medicine cat. "You can't do this to me," he adds, voice close to a snarl, his bushy tail lashing violently in a panic, he can lose a lot of things, his honour, his life, but he can't lose you.

You're sick too, at that the tom's whiskers twitch in distress.