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Booker tried. He can't say that he didn't. To a fault, he would try everything for his group. He couldn't even remember how he got into this inn's room, couldn't remember where the others were, the day blended into a blur of itself, sunlight dancing through the trees.
Now? The sun was gone, only light being felt off of the reflection of the moon itself, a waxing gibbous, so close to being full. So close to reflect the sun at its fullest. Booker could only stare at the moon, his eyes tracing over the craters as he took a deep breath in and out again in some sort of rhythm. Calm, that's all he had to be. He had to be calm to go to sleep. If he wasn't calm going to sleep, the nightmares would come back...
He didn't want those to come back.
And in order for them to stay gone, he had to stay calm.
Calm. He was the epitome of calm when the time came for it. He wasn't when the times called for understandable panic and fear, but during most things? He was calm. Deep breath in, and out. Calm. Just like he had to be. Just like he had always been. Just like when he was younger.
Booker became very aware of a rope around his neck, the weight pressing against the back of his neck, hidden within the fur that no one suspected anything, even further hidden underneath his clothing. Without thinking, his paws moved upwards, lightly pulling the rest of the rope free from under his shirt, to the rock at the end of it. Shaped like a tooth, Booker smiled just a bit. For a moment, he felt calm.
That moment didn't last long, as his mind flooded with memories. Mostly bad ones, but he tried to suppress them down. Blinking his eyes a couple of times, leaning his head back, he took a few more deep breaths in and out. Calm, he had to stay calm. He would stay calm for his group, for his friends, for his family.
He just had to stay calm.
By the time that Booker had, successfully, suppressed everything he was feeling, the stars were gone from the sky. The moon was disappearing as well, and the sun was raising up the horizon. In short, morning was approaching, and Booker... Felt sick. Yes, he was calm, but he still had an unsettled pit in his chest that made his stomach equally unsettled. His throat felt tight, it was hard to swallow, let alone talk, but still, Booker had a job, and that job was to make sure that his family was safe.
And do so he did. The raccoonfolk made sure Hazel got something to eat, assured Grumley that what he was doing was okay to do, double checked that Peggy had her clothes on, and asked Bitsy for some apple mint. He needed to settle this feeling of stress and anxiety in his throat as soon as possible.
Thankfully, Bitsy did have some, willingly handing some over to Booker after making sure that the leaves were taken away from the stalks and rolled up thin, similar to a toothpick. Admittedly, the raccoon had to stop himself from tearing up watching Bitsy do this so meticulously, as if she had remembered this strictly for him.
He felt unworthy, yet he still thanked Bitsy and set the apple mint between his back teeth.
After making sure everyone was okay and fed, forgoing food himself since he still felt sick, he led them out of the clearing they were in and into the forest. Frankly, whatever was going to happen that day, he didn't want to be in town. He wanted to deal with as little shenanigans as possible, and he needed a place to feel calmer at than a bustling town as a conman.
Yet, as everything continued on, he only felt worse. The morning stretched to midday, and Booker swore that if one more thing happened, he heard one more voice, he would start sobbing. Deep breaths, stay calm- He had to stay calm, there was no other option. He rarely spoke for himself, yet questions were continuously thrown at him and he answered to the best of his ability.
Through the foggy mind, the never-ending sick feeling in his stomach, the sun felt too much through his jacket, his eyes were hurting from squinting- Pausing in place, Booker closed his eyes, his whole body tense as he fought against a particularly bad twist in his stomach, as if someone had grabbed and twisted his esophagus, near is chest, without mercy.
"Bitsy, do- Oh, gods above.." Booker placed a hand on his chest, taking a couple of deep breaths again. "Any sort of herb that- Nausea?" He asked, looking at the shorter mouse, trying to remain as calm as he could. He could act fine, he was fine.... Well, if he told himself enough that he was fine, then he was fine!
"Well.. Let me see... Hmm, well, I got this hart's pennyroyal mint? I grew this myself, so it's definitely strong for stronger nausea." Bitsy said, a smile on her face, as she held up the plant stem with mint leaves and flowers that were a lilac, while the rest was a rich green color that only made Booker feel more ill. Regardless, he asked, and he wasn't going to deny her help.
"Thanks." Booker took the plant stem from her, before looking at the end of the plant and biting down on the stem itself, taking and chewing that in his mouth as he led Bitsy to catch up with the others. Maybe it would calm his stomach. That's what he hoped for anyways, to try and stay calm. Lacing the hart's pennyroyal mint in the hand with his bindle, he offered the other hand to Bitsy to grab so she wouldn't get lost walking back with him to the group.
He fought back tears the whole time, but he stayed calm.
The mint didn't help, unfortunately, but he didn't say that to anyone, as the afternoon approached, encroaching into the evening hours. It was then that they decided to get settled for the night. Grumley insisted on setting up the tent, as Peggy gathered twigs and sticks for a fire with Bitsy helping her, and Hazel helped Booker find some suitable logs to sit on. Booker's mind couldn't wrap around why Grumley wanted to fix the tent, normally that was his job.
He knew that Grumley could do it, that wasn't the issue, but his pug friend was much better at dragging these logs around than he was. They only needed two, three at most, but as Booker struggled to drag even one back to camp, he fought back more tears. Even with Hazel's help, he couldn't help but feel a little useless as he trembled and struggled. "We've got this, Booker! No need to quit now!" Hazel cheered on, as they shoved the logs into place. Only two, but that was fine, as Booker plopped down on one of them.
Booker needed to remain calm for everyone. Everything was fine, the day was going smoothly, and the night looked to be a calmer one.
He didn't cook. He didn't know how to, but he watched as Grumley and Bitsy made something together, with Bitsy adding spices and Grumley providing the other ingredients, and the raccoonfolk... Clocked out much earlier than he wanted to. His mind wondered, dread now mixing with the anxiety as he still tried to just stay calm. He had to stay calm, there was no other option other than staying calm.
"'ere you are, Booker!" Grumley said over Booker's blaring thoughts, offering a bowl of food to the raccoon, and before Booker could even deny the bowl, Grumley spoke first, "I noticed you haven't eaten all day, so don't try to fight against it." Booker stayed silent as he grabbed the bowl.
He wanted to cry. He needed to stay calm.
Eating down the food much quicker than he realized, he didn't ask for seconds as he set the bowl down, before hunching over his knees. He was fine, his stomach was a bit more settled with the food now in his system, but the tears.. He wanted to cry, and he didn't want the others to know. He had to stay calm for them...
But, Bitsy's thoughtfulness through her forgetfulness... She had the apple mint and even prepared it for him...
Hazel's encouragement, not leaving his side even as he struggled, helping him out...
Grumley's insistence and care for him and his health and well-being...
"Booker? Are you alright?" Peggy's voice, her worry, sitting right beside Booker...
That was the final straw.
A sob left the raccoon, staying hunched over himself with his hand blocking the others view, the other hand covering his mouth. Peggy was close enough to, not only hear the sob, but see the tears dropping from Booker's eyes. Even through his squeezed closed eyes, he could feel Peggy looking at him.
He was trying to stay calm. To stop the tears that flowed. To sleep decently at night. To stay together.
"I'm sorry." The words were barely a squeak as Booker's ears flattened down backwards, both hands covering his face with the shame of simply feeling hit him hard. He could feel his fur getting wet, his sobs growing in volume the more he tried to stop them. Today was a good day, and all he had to do was stay calm, and he couldn't do that even!
He felt horrible, the twist in his chest only getting tighter. He wouldn't even blame them if they all saw him unfit as a leader -That thought alone made his sobbing intesify- and left him there to find another leader to follow. There were loads of better people, how could-?
He felt two arms wrap around him, pulling him over. They weren't furry, they were... Sleek and moist, if that made sense, and belonged to the one and only Peggy. However, they weren't the only arms that wrapped around him. On the other side, he felt two more arms, small but not exactly thin. Hazel.
Another pair from behind covered in a metal and larger than any of the others, followed by a familar chin on his head, between his ears. Grumley. A final pair went around from the front, a head nestling between his arms and into his chest, a comfortable pressure being placed and two large ears he knew as Bitsy.
Booker couldn't calm down. He... Didn't need to calm down. He was trying for all of them regardless, not to calm down, just to be present and be there. The necklace, that tooth shaped rock... He made a promise years ago, gripping his own snout and shaking with the intesity of that realization.
Now wasn't the time to calm down.
He owed no one an apology.
Even stone walls crumbled with time and elements.