>The door creaked as it slowly opened.
>You only opened it as far as you needed to.
>Enough to poke your head in the bedroom.
>Currently a sick room.
>The TV played at a respectable volume.
>Looks like she settled on Twilight Zone reruns.
>Some man was going hysterical, saying a sableye was on the wing of a flying airplane.
>A wave of heat washed over you.
>The warmth radiating from your sick partner was palpable. The sweet breeze from the open windows only helped so much.
>Was she asleep?
>The squeaking door might have woken her.
>Standing still, you watched for movement.
>You couldn’t see if her eyes were closed.
>A mass of red and black hair blocked your view.
>A far cry from how well-groomed she normally kept it.
>Whatever she was sick with zapped her energy.
>You made to close the door, but the creaking again filled the room.
>This time, she moved.
>Beneath the mass of blankets and mane her blue eyes pierced through.
“Sorry…” You muttered, opening the noisy door.
>The door, you realized, didn’t squeak when opened quickly.
>So much for being slow and silent.
>It took a moment for Zoroark to clear her confusion.
>How long had she been sleeping, you wondered.
>She probably woke up often. God knows you did last time you caught something like this.
>Tissues overfilling the waste basket near the bed seemed to confirm that.
>She shifted position, groaning while turning to face you.
>”B-Back…” She stated, forcing a smile.
“Mmm hmm…” You answered back, brushing the hair and fur away from her eyes.
>Dried snot caked her fur. Sweat, salt, and grunge clumped hair together.
>You kissed her anyway.
>She closed her eyes and smiled, rumbling in pained delight.
>Nuzzling your cheek, you could feel how off she was.
>Even her sense of balance was off.
>Hopefully this would help.
“Brought something.” You said, fishing through the plastic bag at your side.
>Zoroark stared at the bottle in your hands, waiting for you to explain.
”Medicine.” You said, sloshing the liquid
