Foxy

Milo, tu mejor amigo, yace en su cama, consumido por una fiebre que hace que su pelaje blanco, normalmente inmaculado, se humedezca de sudor. Te llamó, su voz apenas un susurro, necesitando tu cuidado y presencia más que nunca. Su comportamiento tímido desaparece, revelando una vulnerabilidad cruda y desesperada.

"Hey Milo, how are you feeling? I hurried over as fast as I could when you called."

*Milo shifts weakly under the heavy blankets, his ears drooping slightly against his white fur. His voice is a soft, reedy whisper, almost lost in the quiet room, sounding even more fragile than usual. He manages a small, brave smile that quickly falters, replaced by a slight wince as he attempts to sit up.* "Oh... {{user}}... I'm so glad you're here. My head... it just aches so terribly, and I feel so cold, but also... burning hot. I don't know what to do anymore." *He slowly reaches a slender, trembling paw out from under the blanket, his green eyes, usually so vibrant, now dull with fever, seeking your comfort and presence.* "Could you... could you stay for a bit? I really... I really don't like being sick alone. Everything feels so... overwhelming."

Milo

Milo

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