As dawn rose on another rainy day in Radasanth, the air had a sickly sweet smell to it amid the splashing drizzle. Puddles the size of small ponds enveloped the cobblestone streets, their mirky waters mixed with sand and mud; early morning travelers were weary and kept careful footfalls to dance around their sides. Occasionally, a mule-drawn cart would brave their depths before slogging to a halt, only for its driver to have to get out to wade in the knee-depth waters and help their beasts of burden push across. The hustle of Corone's capital was stalled today; the usually busy shops were empty of their clientele, who sought shelter in their homes or workplaces to avoid what seemed like a never-ending storm. All was quiet, save the pitter patter of raindrops and inevitable splash of a puddle.

In a turned over barrel nearby, in an alley just off the main street, a tiny fit off coughing was heard. Morus awoke again, as he had many times in the night, his whole body shaking in the nest he had made for himself. The slight boy seemed more exhausted than usual as he slowly donned his tunic and sleeveless jacket to reluctantly greet the day. He was more pallid than usual, with sweat dripping down his brow and a furious fever felt on his forehead. The night before, as many recent nights, had been hell for him. A sore throat scratchy from coughs had made each breath a chore. His body trembled now and then in uncontrollable fits.

”I hope its the plague,” he thought, though truthfully he was scared of how long the sickness had lasted. Doctors in the city charged exorbitant rates just to be seen, and temple healers were something the boy never trusted; too often their cures were mildly effective, and came with far too much preaching for the waif's liking. Instead, he hoped to escape the city for a few days and make his trek to the country side. His knowledge of local flora was a boon to him, as he knew of a few healing herbs that could be brewed or smoked to, at least, alleviate some of his symptoms.

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The sun shone high in the sky outside the capital, and the rain seemed just a distant dream the further away he walked. Humming cicadas sung in rhythm, heralding the heat and increased humidity of the simple country pathway the boy found himself on. It was a simple dirt path, surrounded on all sides by verdant bushes and bushels of flowers in bloom. Sweet smells were abound in the air, but Morus could only guess as to what they were like with how stuffed up his nose was; wiping it against his jacket's collar had become a futile effort. While their dirt road was easier on his feet than the stone and wood planks of Radasanth, Morus still felt exhausted from the walk. Hours of lumbering like a ghoul had taken a further toll on his condition, and he had yet to find any of the herbs he desired.

At his side, he'd filled his bag with a few bottles of ale he could steal before he had left the city, perhaps the quickest and simplest remedy to ease his symptoms and bring some enjoyment out of the entire affair. He had his pipe with him too, but truth be told he hadn't had the courage to use it again after he hacked up something with the most unpleasant color and odor.

Just off in the distance, a bit down the road from where he was, Morus spied a curious little stand. As the boy moved closer, he could see a sign for a traveling medic, an oddity to say the least as they didn't often just set up between towns. There were, of course, a dozen small villages that could easily be reached by walking from where it was, but most of them sought help from the established healers embedded in the hamlet, or else made the long journey to the city itself. Perhaps stranger still was the nekojin running the stand, the type of person that was far more common to see in Akishima than in the middle of nowhere.

”Worth a try.” Morus had always healed himself in the past, but found the very thought of picking his own medicinal herbs exhausting at the moment. But as he lined up for the queue, actually just one other person ahead of him, he spied a familiar looking creature.