Lost to the fire

Chapter one

Patchwing emerged from the medicine den, feeling warm sunlight hit her fur. It had been moons since her vision from Starclan, and it was currently resting in the back of her mind. With Greenleaf drawing near, she had bigger things to worry about. The mottled she-cat breathed in the warm morning air and walked over to a large, cream colored tom. "I know Newleaf was shorter than usual, but Leafbare is definitely over." The tom's gruff meow was directed towards a small dark-grey she-cat, an apprentice. "I know, Lionpelt, but I can't help feel bad. What if they really are low on prey?" She mewed, her tail swaying anxiously. Lionpelt didn't seem convinced. "Excuse me, sorry to interrupt," Patchwing mewed. Lionpelt turned his head to meet her gaze. "Oh, hello Patchwing." He dipped his head respectfully, eyeing the small she-cat apprentice to do so as well; Once upright, the apprentice asked "What's up?" "I was wondering if any patrols had been sent to the lake yet; I wanted to know if the water level is stable." Lionpelt nodded his head. "I think Icetail and Hawksong were sent to check it out," He replied thoughtfully. "I really hope it stays decently high. Fish is our prize-prey in Lakeclan. I don't think we can handle another sickness outbreak." Patchwing felt her chest tighten. "I would hope not, either." She mewed. The memory felt fresh now, as if it were only a day ago.

The medicine cat was in a mad dash back to camp, the ground underpaw hot and cracked. The heat had brought a horrid drought. The other clans were looking down upon them for living so close to the water; What they didn't know was the lake had barely any water it, and the dead fish was making it stagnant. Beside the lake was a small, broke off puddle of clean water that hadn't dried up. Filling as much as she could into moss, she was racing against time. Rootclaw was currently inside camp waiting for her. His paws were cracking and his throat was dry as dust. His fever had risen, making him feel past horrible. A normal warrior could possibly stand up to the seemingly easy illness, but Rootclaw was an old cat; An elder. He had always caught sicknesses faster than any cat, and now he was throwing up. His dehydration was serious now.

Feeling sick, she entered camp. Patchwing's clan-mates swarmed her as she entered, bombarding her with questions about the herbs and rootclaw. She ignored them, shooing them with her tail. She hurried into her den, the shade was definitely cooler than the sun outside. She laid the moss down beside him. "Drink up, i'm here to help." She mewed, hoping she could help at all. Patchwing's stomach felt like a twisted claw as she picked through her herb stash, pulling out a few borage leaves. She glances at the tom who had his neck stretched forward, lapping water from the dripping moss. She had a small comb of honey that an apprentice had brought her; With it she douses the leaves in it, laying them beside him. "Chew these up, there's honey on them to help it go down." She mewed. Watching him chew, she went to find more herbs when she heard him coughing and wheezing. "Rootclaw, are you okay?" She asked. Her nerves were shot- he couldn't be too bad, right? Suddenly the tom vomited again. This wasn't a fever, her had been sick for a while.

She stepped out. "Has any cat seen Rootclaw acting funny?" She demanded. After a hesitation, a small rust colored she-cat stepped forward. "I did," She admitted. "He said he had felt bad but I didn't tell anyone and-" Patchwing felt hot with anger. She turned, returning to Rootclaw. "You'll be okay," She mewed, then stopped. No, no, no. She muttered. He had stopped moving, his breathing hardly visible. She pawed at his chest, applying force to make him breathe again but it didn't work. He was gone. Patchwing turned her gaze to the rust colored cat and hissed. "He's dead now," Her eyes stung with tears. Ivystar had joined the crowd, coming to see. He touched her cheek as he passed, knowing it was breaking her heart to lose a cat. "You could have saved Rootclaw," She growled at her. "Wait, Patchwing, any-cat could make that slip up, don't be angry with Foxtail." Now a grey tom was standing beside her. "Don't defend her!" She snapped. "It is vital for me to know when a cat is sick!" Her tears were running down her cheeks. "Go away, all of you!" The cats hesitated in front of her. "Now!" She snapped at them. They began to disperse. Ivystar emerged behind her. "This is not any-cat's fault. The drought is to blame, truly." He meowed softly. Patchwing bit her tongue; Oh how she wanted to argue with him right now. Instead she scoffed and headed inside to clean up Rootclaw's mess. "Find someone for the burial," Patchwing instructed.

Out of her thoughts, she noticed she was standing there a while, staring at nothing. "You okay, Patchwing?" Lionpelt meowed. "I'm..fine, don't worry," She mewed. "Could you go check on Honeyleaf for me?" Lionpelt nodded. "I will." She assumed he knew why, and didn't give him time to pry if he wanted to. Padding away, she couldn't help feeling uneasy. Please starclan, keep my clan safe.

Author notes: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I'm finding my drive to write again, especially now that school has started and i'm doing a lot of writing. 

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