C'mon Get Down with the Sickness

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When Sokka had gone to bed, he'd thought he could work through the cough, through the sniffles, through the haze. He had thought sleep (which had rarely failed him before) would do the trick. For that matter, he'd even tried an odd combination of herbs his grandmother had once suggested, but by morning, it was obvious this was no ordinary cold

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Said bundle groaned, and it was a long and unhealthy sounding reaction. Sokka had burrowed a little deeper into his sleeping bag, intent on staving off the worst of the chills, but the sound of another voice stirred around the haze.

"--said you couldn', but I knew!" His voice came in and out, an awkward one-sided conversation, but he wriggled back to the surface thanks to it, raising his pointed finger far too late for the intended exclamation. He smacked his lips, feverish and dry. Certainly, this was a cold plus one (in that familiar vernacular) -- not ordinary at all.

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He waved off some imaginary insect buzzing around his head and quite nearly ended up smacking himself in the face. Whatever was going on in that fever-addled brain was disjointed and while it made little sense to Sokka, it probably made even less to Renne.

"Go on, go on," he urged the imaginary insect, eventually settling back to lay for a moment when he finished his shooing. A second later, he awoke with a start, legitimately greeting the waking world with open eyes. A shiver ran through him and Sokka groaned. "R-Renne? What's--" A hacking cough cut him off. When he caught his breath, he groaned against the ache in his chest. "Hey."

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The Imp's words must have cut through the worst of the fog because Sokka nodded and propped an elbow under himself, working his way slowly into a sitting position. He ached, head-to-toe, and additional exposure to the outside world had him shivering.

"Where did--" Another cough, and the cold air's taking its toll on his whole respiratory system (especially since he can't breathe directly through his nose.) He doesn't bother finishing his question. "Yeah, sick... uugh. Let me-- let me get up," he begged, hoping for a couple extra seconds to get to that point.

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Normally, Sokka wouldn't take from someone else for himself, but these were definitely not normal circumstances. He wrapped the fur around his shoulders and stood unsteadily by his sleeping bag, eyes rolling across the area, tracking slow and lazy over their location. "Where'd all this sannnnd come from?"

He turned in a circle, hand coming up to shield his eyes. "I think-- I think someone took my stuff..."

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The human warrior was slow to move, but he managed to keep up with Renne for the most part, only falling behind here and there when he found himself unable to catch his breath because of a recent coughing fit. He didn't feel good at all. In fact, he considered that this was probably worse than that Ochre Fever he'd had (until he realized he'd never actually had Ochre Fever, which only made him decide this sickness was definitely worse.)

Finally, after what seems like well too long to walk, Sokka half-stumbled to a stop, teetering with exhaustion. "Are we-- can we rest a minute? I think there's sand in my teeth..."

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Sokka shaded his eyes again and looked out over the bright landscape. The snow, white and pristine, stretched on and on into the distance. The tribesman, still burning up, still interpreting snow as sand, pulled the borrowed yeti skin from his shoulders and draped it back on Renne, much too hot now to need it.

He coughed. "There's always an... uh, an oasis in the desert, right? Somewhere to rest. With water." Smacking his lips, Sokka felt dry enough to be out in the desert, even if it was cold and snowy and bright.

Still, something in the distance caught his eye, and while it might prove to be a mirage, Sokka took Renne's hand and pointed them toward it anyway. Better to try and fail than give up now. "C'mon, there's a sand-igloo. We can go there."

I hear-tell they're slow again this morning...

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"'s cold? It's... it's..." Sokka stopped for a second to look around and scratch his head. It looked like snow, sure, but he was so hot and he couldn't keep himself from shivering and it was just a mess of contradictions in his head. "Ne'ermind, s'not important."

With a wave of his hand, the warrior continued forward, and while it was something of a struggle, he managed the rest of the distance to the abandoned igloo. Sokka dropped down onto his knees in front of it, eying the structure critically. "Must've been for one -- I think we'll fit fine, though. There's even room to make a fire, though I think that might melt the sand..."

*hugs!*

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He followed the direction and crawled into the igloo, scooting around in the hard-packed snow on the ground. "I think I saw some sand beetles," he replied wistfully, "crawling in the walls -- in the network in the walls..." Yeeeah, whatever that meant.

Sokka jabbed at the cold wood in the center of the dome. It had been a long time since anyone had lit the fire, but it seemed mostly dry. With a little work, they could build a decent fire. On automatic, Sokka was searching his pockets for spark rocks (and talking about berries.) "Two green berries... gonna use these berries, make a fire, melt the sand, welcome the snow..."