ShadowClan has never faced such an awful leaf-bare. But now, cats are starving and falling dead to a new illness. Desperate to survive this all and figure out what is happening, the ShadowClan medicine cat known as Hemlockfoot resorts to eating his...
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All day and all night, Hemlockfoot couldn't shake off the feeling he was being watched. He also kept waking up hungry but forced himself to sleep again, knowing that his clanmates needed any stale food more than him. By now, they should have been rising soon, but nobody seemed to be awake.
The medicine cat rested his icy gaze on Rainpaw. The young tom was curled up in a tight ball, his nose buried into his bushy tail. Every now and then, the young cat's ear would twitch.
I wonder what he is dreaming about, Hemlockfoot thought. Perhaps he's hunting, or maybe he's climbing trees. Maybe he's even getting news from StarClan. Some good news would be incredibly nice.
Silently, he got up and stretched. A quiet yawn escaped his mouth as he flexed his claws into the ground. He poked his head outside the den, noticing how much warmer it had begun to feel. Was leaf-bare finally over? Would some warm weather and prey finally be coming back? Even though the ground was still coated with snow and the sun hadn't risen yet, the sky seemed much clearer than it ever had before.
"Morning, Hemlockfoot," remarked Scorchmask. The she-cat had been the one in charge of watching the camp during the night in case RiverClan attacked.
"You can probably go get some rest now," the medicine cat told her. "The sun should be coming up soon."
Scorchmask came over and sat down beside him. "I enjoy the night. It's so peaceful compared to daytime. Have you ever really looked closely at the stars?"
Hemlockfoot shook his head. He had in the past, but recently he didn't want to think too hard about StarClan or purposely try to find them. They'd be so disappointed in him, and he would rather they come to him now.
"I assumed you'd like doing that since you're a medicine cat," the she-cat said.
"Sometimes I like to. But I'm a little worried that StarClan might be upset with me."
The tabby patched she-cat eyed him. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Hemlockfoot sighed. "I'm just worried they're mad at us and cursed us with bloodcough."
Scorchmask nodded. "That sounds reasonable. Or maybe they aren't in control of this but know we can get through it. You used to always be so spiritual, what happened?"
"I still am... I just need to think about other stuff for ones. I'm so stressed and feel so sick."
"Do you have bloodcough?"
"At this point I don't know or care. I'm hungry though so I'm just going to grab some prey. You're welcome to join me if you'd like," Hemlockfoot said, steering away the conversation.
The she-cat didn't seem to notice his change of topic and smiled. "That'd be nice. Nice catch with the squirrel yesterday, the elders seemed to really appreciate it."
Hemlockfoot grabbed a small and scrawny mouse of the pile. It looked as if it would hardly fill his empty stomach. He laid down and began to eat, savoring each bite. Visions of Rowantail seemed to fog his mind the more he nibbled on the mouse though.
Will anything ever make you content again? Rowantail sure filled you up. And he tasted wonderful. You know you won't be getting any good food again for a while...
"I'm sure glad leaf-bare is almost over," Scorchmask purred as she settled beside him.
"Same. I'm starving," Hemlockfoot remarked.
The she-cat nodded. "It's been a while since I've seen anything good. All this prey is thinner than a WindClan elder!"
Hemlockfoot froze after her words. Rowantail had been incredibly thin, yet he'd been such a good meal. Why did he taste so good? he thought.
"I think I'm going to be going back to sleep. Maybe you should get some rest as well," he told her.
