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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"Food. I need food. I must eat. I can't starve. I can't let myself get weak. I cannot die. Not yet," were Hemlockfoot's words as he tore into the shadowy cat that was laying on the ground. It tasted amazing. It was so nice to finally eat again.
"Hemlockfoot!"
Had he been caught? What was happening?
"Hemlockfoot!"
"Hemlockfoot please! Get up!"
The tom rolled over to see his apprentice standing over him. His fur was bristling and his eyes were wide with fear. Hemlockfoot had never seen him look so distraught.
"What's happening?" he asked, half asleep. "Is WindClan here?"
"Morningpaw is coughing and I think she's going to have a seizure! What do I do? I can't let her die! She's so young and-"
Hemlockfoot shot up from his nest before the apprentice could finish. He crashed into the apprentices den, alarm ringing through him. There was no way to help this cat. All he could try to do was help the symptoms.
Pictured in front of him was a scene he could have never expected. Morningpaw lay on the ground, blood pooling around her head as she twitched violently on the ground. Her eyes were rolled into the back of her head, and her limbs flailed about. Even as she convulsed, blood seemed to keep leaking from her mouth.
"Don't just stand there!" Smokebristle, her father, cried.
Scorchmask, her mother, was standing over her, trying to talk to her. "Morningpaw! Please stop! This isn't funny! Please talk to me! You're going to be okay..."
Hemlockfoot didn't know what to do. He was almost afraid he would get hurt if he attempted to help her during the seizure.
"Smokebristle, please go keep Rainpaw out of the den... I don't want him to see her like this. Scorchmask, please try to calm down, we can't do anything for her until she's done with this," the tom told the horrified parents.
Smokebristle stood for a moment, looking back at his daughter. Grief seemed to hang in his eyes as he saw his kit suddenly stop moving. "Is she..." he trailed off.
Scorchmask looked down at her kit, watching as the life slowly began to fade from her already sickly looking eyes. The she-cat, who was usually so calm, collapsed over Morningpaw, burying her face into her pelt and wailing. It was painful to watch.
"You didn't even do anything..." Rainpaw mumbled as he stood in the den's entrance.
Hemlockfoot turned around, sadness in his gaze. "There isn't anything that could have been done. She was too far gone and there isn't a cure."
Rainpaw rushed over his to family and sat down beside his sister. The other apprentices, who had crouched down off to the side, seemed hesitant to approach the grieving family and body. Flintpaw, who seemed to be close with the deceased she-cat, slowly approached and sat down beside Rainpaw.
"We need to get her out of here as soon as we can... We can't risk spreading bloodcough to the others," Hemlockfoot warned wearily.
Stormbristle shot him a glare. "Just go away. Let my family grieve."
• • • •
The body had been placed in the middle of camp for ShadowClan to see. Once Stormbristle had been able to drag Scorchmask away from her kit, Hemlockfoot got to work with Rainpaw and the elders to move the body and prepare it for the vigil. As much as Hemlockfoot had wanted the body removed from camp immediately, he knew that a vigil would be much better for her.
Molestar was speaking with Stormbristle now. Hemlockfoot could hear them discussing her warrior name. She would have been receiving it soon. She had so much ahead of her. She could have been the next leader. She could have become involved in a prophecy or had a family.
"Do we have any rosemary left?" asked Sagedusk.
Rainpaw shook his head. "It's probably all rotted away. Pansies or primroses may still be blooming somewhere though."
Morningpaw's body was stiff and cold at this point. Her eyes were now peacefully shut, her pelt smoothed out, and the blood on her face was washed off with snow and damp moss. She looked like she was just resting. But Hemlockfoot knew she wasn't, and that wherever she was now, she was likely watching them prepare her. Would she be upset about not having rosemary? Was she scared by this? Was she grieving too? This had looked to be such a gorgeous day, yet here the tom was, preparing a young cat to be buried deep underground where she'd eventually rot away and be forgotten about.
"I'm sure she'd love pansies, and they'll stand out nicely from her pelt. I always thought we had some growing outside around camp somewhere. Just make sure to grab them with your paws and carry them in a leaf wrap. We don't need anyone getting poisoned," Hemlockfoot told the elders.
Sagedusk nodded and got up from where she sat. "Rainpaw, would you like to come with us? I haven't left camp in ages and you look like you could use a break from this."
The apprentice looked at the elder. He got up and slowly began his way out of camp. Sagedusk and Beetlespeck followed behind him.
Hemlockfoot looked down at Morningpaw's corpse. He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm so sorry, Morningpaw. You were destined for so much more than this."
Aren't you rather... hungry?
The medicine cat froze at the thought. No. He could never... That would be wrong. That would be horrible. It would be despicable.
