The world was still spinning and the nearly full grown boy couldn’t even drag himself up onto his paws before flopping right over nearly face planting in the mountain snow. What was wrong with him? He had his share of small colds that were ignorable this was nothing even close to those. The monochrome boy didn’t even want to try to move again. He lay there a least somewhat away from his disgusting smelling spew but he felt like he was dying. Was this fate’s way of telling him he was not needed? Not welcome? Fate’s way of making the lives of those he had left easier or those he still bothered then? He wasn’t sure where these thoughts came from but one thing was certain he wanted to die if it meant getting away from the spinning, vomiting and pain in his muscles that just seemed to get worse and worse! Anything to get the thoughts out of his head! He didn’t think anyone would come for him so high up and out of the way, just like he wanted, but now he was suddenly wishing to be surrounded by everyone in the pack maybe someone could help him.

His mind went to Natu, his mother figure of course, someone familiar and he figured just that would help, but he hadn’t seen her in some time and when he did she was with Fenrir and they seemed so happy without him and he didn’t want to intrude. He was the old life after all. But to his surprise he thought he could smell her. He shook his head, wishful thinking, delirium from this sickness he was sure. Then she called to him, this what he thought was an illusion. Insane clearly but when he heard the snow crunch and the soft touch of her tongue on his cheek his eyes shot open putting him back in the spinning world where he saw not one but four Natu’s hovering above him.

He tried to focus his head moving around slightly until he finally could tell it was one. She was worried? About him? He could see her bulging sides her whole white form before him and he knew it was her but he was confused. ”Natu? Natu m-my stomach and the world.” He clinched his eyes shut but still to no avail at stopping the feeling that he was being washed around in a river or something similar, ”The world is spinning everywhere. I-I can’t move.” He sounded so childish, nearly an adult and much larger than the female before him there was little the heavily pregnant woman could do to move him herself. ”Do… do you think I am dying?” It was like some sort of que that he began retching then puking up the remaining contents of his stomach right in front of his face. Surely this was what dying felt like.