A Misty Path (A Warrior Cats Fanfiction)

Chapter 30

"That's... a lot of food," remarked Iceshine as Speckledleaf and Whitefrost dumped their catch on the fresh-kill pile. She eyed them curiously. "Took you a while, though."

Speckledleaf twitched an ear. "What can we say?" she mewed simply. "There was a lot of prey."

"And you didn't get caught?" The deputy's voice was incredulous.

" - No," replied Whitefrost, though his voice seemed strained.

Iceshine eyed her nephew suspiciously but said nothing, bending down to sniff the prey, unaware of how the two cats tensed. "Why's it all wet?"

"Whitefrost fell. In the river, I mean." Speckledleaf said before the large warrior could reply. He shot a bitter glare at her behind the deputy's back, and she smirked coolly in response.

"I see." Iceshine's golden eyes swept over Whitefrost's rather dry pelt, but she didn't say anything. "Well, get some prey for the sick cats, will you?" Her yellow eyes came to fix on Speckledleaf as she continued: "Minnowfall's gotten sick."

Speckledleaf's eyes widened, and a strangled choke burst out of her mouth before she could hold it back. "Wh -?"

"He's asked for you to visit him," Iceshine said before turning away and padding into the leader's den. Speckledleaf's gaze didn't follow her, and instead fixed themselves on her paws.

"Well - thanks for the help," Whitefrost mewed awkwardly, before stooping down and grabbing a large vole - too large and healthy to have come from RiverClan land.

He entered the medicine den, fresh-kill swinging from his jaws. Its fresh juicy scent caused Mistlefrost's ears to prick, and she turned to look at Whitefrost. "Oh, you're back," she said mildly. Her gaze lingered on the vole for a bit longer than Whitefrost was comfortable with, but Stoneleap let out a pained groan in his sleep, and she turned back to her herbs.

He padded into Willowheart's corner of the small den, and laid the vole next to his ill brother. "Willowheart?" he mewed quietly. "Willowheart, wake up."

His brother's eyes slid open. "Whitefrost," he murmured. He yawned, squeezing his eyes shut, and he looked like a fresh warrior, just woken from a comfortable sleep, before he straightened up and opened his eyes again, and Whitefrost could see the dirty condition of his fur that he was too tired and the medicine cats too busy to groom, and the dull watery colour of his washed-out eyes. "Where'd you get this? It's as fat as ThunderClan prey!" He smiled. "It's as fat as ThunderClan cats."

Whitefrost laughed, and nudged it closer. "Eat," he urged. "You'll need your strength."

Willowheart sighed, and bent down, taking a tiny pitiable bite. "Tastes like... trees," he murmured disdainfully, and Whitefrost swallowed the guilty, regretful feeling in his stomach. It was worth it. It was worth working with rogues, hunting in enemy Clan territory so close to the Gathering, if it would save his brother. He took another bite and swallowed before he spoke again, a thoughtful and bitter meow. "Have Mossystone and Snowsky visited me...?"

Whitefrost frowned. "I don't know," he admitted truthfully. "But I'm sure they have!" he added earnestly. "They care about you, Willowheart, they miss you a lot -" He cut himself off. Thinking about Snowsky or Mossystone made his stomach churn with discomfort.

However, his reassurances didn't seem to convince Willowheart. He took the next bite of his food sullenly, before his sad eyes lifted to meet Whitefrost's gaze. "Am I going to die?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. Whitefrost tensed.

"What -?"

"Mistlefrost says they don't know what's wrong with me," Willowheart mewed quietly, voice shaking uncontrollably. He looked around at the other sick cats, most of which were either in a dreamless sleep or were simply too drained to move. "I don't wanna die," he whispered, his voice a strangled plea. "Whitefrost, what's wrong with me?"