Massive wings beat rhythmically through the air, guiding a humble rath couple across a sunset sky. The duo were hunting, both pairs of eyes scanning the golden hills of the Ancestral Steppe for daring aptonoth that happened to stray too far from the herd. Spire, the rathalos, had been feeling increasingly… “off.” He chalked it up to hunger, but something told him that wasn't the root cause. Either way, the feeling was faint enough to ignore, and perhaps a decent meal would resolve things.
“Spot anything?” Nettle—his mate—centered his thoughts again. The rathalos shook his head briefly.
“You're quiet tonight.” The rathian continued.
“Oh- I am?” Spire deflected at first, but soon let his guard down as Nettle's gaze stayed trained on him. He swallowed hard, “I've been… feeling a little under the weather is all. Nothing a little food won't fix.”
Spire nodded, looking down and quickly halting the duo to flap in place, “There we go!”
Nettle stopped in place beside him, eyes following until they landed on the aptonoth the rathalos had spotted. It was plump and alone. The perfect meal.
Spire swooped down, shooting a burst of fire from his maw and narrowly missing the aptonoth, but effectively stopping it in its tracks. With a warning roar, he circled their prey once, then again. Nettle knew his hunting strategy and swiftly followed, diving with claws outstretched. Her dive stopped abruptly as talons pierced the thick skin of the herbivore. Both creatures toppled over and Spire joined the scuffle to help hold down the aptonoth until it stopped struggling. Both wyverns relaxed, catching their breaths.
“Good work” Nettle stepped off of the corpse.
“... Aren’t you going to eat?” She asked expectantly.
Spire covered his snout with a wing, burping softly before clearing his throat, “I will, just… stomach’s bothering me a little is all.”
Nettle leaned down and started tearing chunks of flesh from their kill, “When you’re ready then.”
The rathian ate alone, in silence, for a moment, only stopping at the sudden sound of rustling and soft moans. She lifted her head, flashing her mate a look of concern, “Spire?”
The wyvern has turned his back to her, shuffling his wings helplessly in an attempt to conceal what was coming. He became more and more frantic with each belch that crawled up his throat. Bile tickled the back of his tongue, and soon Spire started to gag, “Grrlp-”
“Are you throwing up?” Nettle asked in both disbelief and worry. It wasn’t long until she got a clear answer.
“HhuRGLK!” Brown-and-red semi-digested slop surged out of the rathalos’s maw, splattering against the ground with sickening plops. Spire gasped for air, only given a moment before his stomach lurched again and the purging continued, “UUURGHK!”
Nettle was swiftly at his side, reaching a wing over his back, “I didn’t realize it was this bad…”
The rathalos caught another break and coughed repeatedly, trying to speak “It wasn’t- I mean, it came on suddenly, I–” He snapped his jaws shut as his stomach lurched, sending its contents right back to his mouth. The attempt to hold back was short-lived, and Spire was soon bent over, heaving up everything else that was in him.
The episode was long and grueling. Nettle did her best not to look at what he was puking up, as even the smell was starting to make her stomach turn. She stepped away once it seemed he was done, trying to keep her own lunch in. Why was that so difficult suddenly? She’s never been squeamish, what…?
“Knew there was something off about that gargwa.” Spire referred to what they had eaten that morning… Oh no. He seemed to put two and two together right when she did. The rathalos turned around to see Nettle wearing the same expression he had, “Oh, hon…”
Nettle managed to stagger another step backwards before pitching forward with a sickening retch, “RRRGHK!” a spray of vomit shot out of her with impressive force, and now she, too, was wracked with heaves. Though, evident by how much she had just eaten, she was going to be throwing up for significantly longer.
Spire could practically see her stomach clench and twist, sending a few meal’s worth of sludge up her throat and onto the grass. She stumbled with each violent expulsion, needing to spread her wings out just to keep from toppling face-first into the mess. The rathalos did his best to support her, helping her stay upright during the worst of it, “I’m so sorry,” he breathed, empathizing.
It took several long, painful minutes, but eventually everything was out of both of them.
“That was…horrible.” Nettle shook her head and Spire gave her horns a few comforting licks.
The two wordlessly agreed to rest there for the next hour, before beginning the journey back home to sleep off the last of the sickness.
amandla