"It’s cold", or at least that’s what Rascal keeps saying. He’s been sick for the past few days and had the chills for the entirety of it. Constant shivering and whimpering is all he can do, really.

Rascal’s been twisting all night, trying to get warm and constantly feeling like he’s dying. And at this point you’re a little concerned.

You climbed under the couple of blankets he had over him, and snuggled next to Rascal, holding his head in your shoulder.

"… this is better.." Rascal whispered as he closed his eyes.