Mapleshade's Wrath

Chapter 3

Rushtuft's yowls pierced through the camp. As they passed into the medicine den and through Mapleshade's tufted ears, her mind was only clouded by memories of her own painful kitting. The pains that day were some of the worst she had felt, and she remembered fear prickling through Ravenwing's pelt as he had spent most of the day trying to ease them. If that wasn't the agony that the long-legged medicine cat felt two moons later, right before StarClan's eyes, when she sank her teeth into his throat, then surely he wasn't feeling enough pain. Pain was something that she wanted to inflict on him and every cat who had turned on her.

She pressed her eyes closed, weak enough time wonder if she was dying again. She had lost everything, and even ThunderClan wasn't what it once was. Her kits were something she was desperately trying to forget about. She had killed for them, but to her it almost seemed they had been forgotten by most of the Clan without a second thought. In that same moment, however, Mapleshade realized she was also feeling a small flash of satisfaction. Was she enjoying hearing the pain of one of the cats who wasn't around when she was thrown out?

Mapleshade rested her chin on her paws. She felt light pawsteps as the primarily ginger tortoiseshell she-cat with only some black on her face, flanks, and tail, Whistledawn, padded into the den. Mapleshade wanted to hiss at her mother to leave her alone, and unsheathed her claws, still the rest of her was almost limp. She watched as Stonestripe trailed behind, and took notice of his worried light green eyes. Whistledawn approached Mapleshade and sniffed her muzzle. The sick, wounded she-cat curled her lip at her whenever she felt her breath.

"You're going to be okay, Mapleshade. We thought you needed us," Whistledawn meowed, causing Mapleshade to turn her head away. 

Stonestripe's voice lamented: "We really missed you. Especially me. While you were gone, I thought I would never be happy again. Things just felt....incomplete." Mapleshade let out a weak, yet bitter and somewhat threatening mew. 

"Life has no purpose anymore, Stonestripe. I lost everything. I'm not your lovely daughter anymore." 

Whistledawn swept her plumy tail over Mapleshade's spine, and Mapleshade could feel her own shivering bones. "Of course you are, Mapleshade," Whistledawn purred, before she began licking her kit between the ears.

"I know you say you want to, but, please listen. I really don't want you dying. Mistakes don't have to define you, " the silver tabby with near-black stripes meowed.

 Mapleshade lifted her head and mockingly snarled: "Ha! According to you, maybe. According to the warrior code, Oakstar, Frecklewish, and my own former mate, they do! How do you think Appledusk showed me what hid under his fur? The fox-heart who killed Birchface and refused to save my kits?" 

Stonestripe flinched. "RiverClan and ThunderClan have always been sworn enemies when it comes to Sunningrocks. And, when you think about it, we've fought with them too much to ever be a good combination," he lamented, dipping his head.

"Bloomheart! I need you to fetch a stick from the medicine stores for Rushtuft to bite! Flowertail, we need fennel for Rushtuft's hip pains!," Cloudberry instructed from outside the den. 

Whistledawn began licking the shivering Mapleshade the wrong way. Don't do it, Bloomheart and Flowertail. Just let Rushtuft feel the pain before it goes away on its own. What if neither she or her kits survive? I hope at least the kits don't, Mapleshade thought as she grinded her teeth. Both cats bursted into the den, Flowertail immediately reaching into the cracks. Bloomheart turned his face over to Whistledawn and Stonestripe.

"You're dangerously close to her. I don't want Mapleshade's sickness spreading to either of you, " he meowed, before sticking his muzzle into the cracks of the rock and grabbing a stick.