Treacherous Skies

Chapter 5

Whispersong lay on her nest, wide awake.

Ferrettail had been buried yesterday. Spruceclaw had been devastated, absolutely shocked beyond words when he saw his friend's dead body. Eveningstar still had the disease, and stayed in his den all day to prevent any other cat from getting it. Other than their leader, every cat was healing. 

Whispersong wondered how the other Clans were doing with the spreading sickness. Was every Clan losing as much cats as DawnClan seemed to be losing?  Whispersong sighed. If DawnClan was suffering, NightClan must have it worse, because of DayClan taking their prey for the past four moons. 

At the thought of DayClan, Whispersong shuddered, not in fear, but worry for one cat in it. Did Bumblefrost have whitecough, or even greencough? Whispersong let out a ragged breath. Last time she'd seen Bumblefrost, which was at the Gathering a quarter-moon ago, he'd seemed fine, but she couldn't be sure now, especially since the sickness seemed to be worsening in all the Clans. Whispersong had told Bumblefrost then that she couldn't visit him for awhile, because her Clan was really sick. Bumblefrost had agreed, saying some of his Clan was sick as well. She'd told him she promised to try and come to the next Gathering so they could plan on their meeting times again. She missed Bumblefrost desperately, but at least Echoheart was no longer suspicious.

Whispersong rolled over and found Echoheart staring at her.

"Can't sleep?" Echoheart whispered.

"No, of course not," sighed Whispersong.

"Let's take a walk, to get our mind off things," Echoheart suggested, and Whispersong nodded, getting to her paws and following her sister out of the warriors' den.

Together the two sisters padded out of camp, walking side by side. There was no more snow, and now small buds appeared on every bush and tree. Little blades of grass were poking out of the dirt, bright green and full of dew each morning. New-leaf was just around the corner; Whispersong could almost taste it, but first they'd have to get through the whitecough.

"What's on your mind?" Echoheart asked after they passed the Great Pine, stopping and sitting down near the bank of the stream.

Whispersong sat next to her. "I'm just worried about the greencough. Who knows when it'll be over?" Whispersong sighed, knowing that it wasn't a lie; she was  worried about the sickness. But what was really keeping her up was Bumblefrost.

"I know," Echoheart nodded sadly, voice faltering. "Although, according to Goldheart, every cat but Eveningstar is cured."

"Yes, but what if Eveningstar infects some other cat?" Whispersong meowed quietly.

"We can only hope to StarClan that that doesn't happen," Echoheart sighed, breath billowing out in a cold fog.

Whispersong stared up at the stars, and a silence engulfed the two she-cats.

Finally Echoheart spoke up. "So, um..." she began, looking uncomfortable. "I-I know it's not my business... but... about you and Bumblefrost..."

Whispersong felt a burst of irritation. "You're right," she retorted. "It isn't  your business." Then she paused. "Sorry," she meowed guiltily.

"I just worry for you," Echoheart murmured, blinking slowly. "If you two meet in battle one day, your heart will be torn. I don't want you to be in that situation. It'd be horrible." Echoheart looked down at her paws.

Whispersong sighed and didn't meet her sister's eyes. "I know, and I'm glad you're concerned about me. But, I... I think I love  him, Echoheart."