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Littlecloud stood frozen on the edge of the Thunderpath, staring at the unmoving black shape in front of him.
Whitethroat looked small, laying on his side, his fur ruffled and messy. He had already been thin to begin with from the sickness, but now he looked like nothing more than a piece of prey.
Littlecloud took a tentative step towards his friend. He could feel a pit opening up in his stomach but he refused to acknowledge it. Whitethroat was going to be okay. Cinderpelt had taught him how to fix this.
"Whitethroat?" Littlecloud murmured, brushing a paw over the warrior's flank. "You're okay, we've got to get back to the Clan, remember?" The small tabby glanced back at the pile of herbs he'd left a tail length away. "We're gonna save them together. Get up, Runningnose is waiting for us."
Whitethroat did not stir.
"Whitethroat, please get up."
No answer.
Suddenly he was just a kit again, being pushed into battle with Volepaw by his side. He felt so confident going into the battle, confident that he was just as strong as a real warrior, eager to prove himself to Brokenstar. And before he knew it, he was pinned to the ground by a rat twice his size, feeling sharp claws sink into his fur and latching on. He tried to recall all the fighting moves Clawface had taught him, but only really was able to writhe around in an effort to dislodge the rat. He watched in horror as Volepaw tackled the creature above him, the tom seemingly drenched in blood. He screamed in defiance as Clawface dragged him away from his friend. Littlecloud never saw Volepaw again after that day.
Tears fell from Littlecloud's eyes. Whitethroat still hadn't moved. Monsters flew by on the pavement, taking no notice of the pair of cats on the side. A broken sob pierced the still air, and Littlecloud buried his muzzle in Whitethroat's matted fur. He smelled of decay and carried the familiar stench of the Thunderpath, but underneath he smelled just as Littlecloud had remembered him - soft lavender and marshland. His sky blue eyes, so much like Littlecloud's own, were open wide, his pupils narrowed into slits rolled in the back of his head. Upon closer inspection, Littlecloud could see the white fur around his neck was caked with dried blood. Bright crimson oozed from a wound at Whitethroat's chest, still dripping onto the grass below.
"I can fix this," Littlecloud muttered to himself. "Cobwebs and goldenrod and horsetail and he'll be fine." It was just like the Carrionplace sickness. Like Cinderpelt had said, if herbs could fix that, herbs can fix anything. Whitethroat had been sick before and he had recovered from that. There was no reason he couldn't recover from this, too.
Littlecloud knew that was stupid. Herbs couldn't bring cats back from StarClan.
Tears flowed freely now, as Littlecloud emitted a choked cry from the back of his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly finding the light of the sun blinding. He felt helpless. He should've stopped Whitethroat before he ran off. He should've helped Runningnose sooner. He should've convinced Whitethroat that it was okay to go back to camp.
He should've gone back for Volepaw. He should've stopped Wetfoot and Brownpaw from killing Mosspaw. He should've recognized Brokenstar's treachery before it got too far.
Littlecloud was only a kit when he was made an apprentice. He was only three moons old when he faced full grown WindClan warriors in ferocious battle. How was he supposed to know that becoming a warrior would lead to this? To the deaths of the cats he cared about? First Volepaw, his best friend, and then his mother and brother. And now Whitethroat, the only cat he's ever loved, the cat he'd thought he'd be spending the rest of his life with.
A blast of hot wind from a monster interrupted his thoughts. Littlecloud opened his eyes, blinking away tears. He had to get these herbs back to ShadowClan. Every precious moment mattered for the sick cats back at camp.
Littlecloud lapped at Whitethroat's matted fur, smoothing it over in an effort to make it look like he was just resting. He didn't want to leave him here, but there wasn't any time for a proper burial. The sooner he delivered the herbs to Runningnose, the better.
"I'll be back," Littlecloud promised, his voice hoarse.
Whitethroat would've wanted to save his Clan, Littlecloud reminded himself as he forced himself to stand up and retrieve the herbs. His paw pads ached from his journey to ThunderClan and his face burned from his tears, but the only thing that mattered right now was getting these herbs to ShadowClan.
☆☆☆☆☆
Littlecloud burst into camp, panting heavily with the herbs clamped firmly in his jaws. The first cat he saw was Oakpaw, whose eyes brightened upon his arrival. "Littlecloud!" the small tom exclaimed, bounding over to him. "We've missed you!" he lowered his voice, glancing around nervously as if he expected an enemy warrior to jump out from the bushes. "How was your visit to ThunderClan?"
Littlecloud set down the herbs, slightly amused at Oakpaw's overly cautious attitude. He supposed most of the ill cats were still in camp. "Fine," he replied warmly, trying to hide his grief. He'd break the news of Whitethroat's death when things simmered down. "I've got herbs for Wetfoot - is he in the medicine den?"
Oakpaw's green gaze darkened. "No. He's out training with Stumpytail. Cinderfur has them out running battle drills."
Littlecloud felt a jolt of concern for his brother. Wetfoot was among the sickest cats of the Clan and was in no condition to be training. "You're not with him? Isn't Wetfoot your mentor?" Littlecloud asked. It was unusual that Cinderfur was running battle training at all, especially because most cats were sick.
Oakpaw shook his head. "He sent me to fetch prey."
"When will he be back?" Littlecloud asked. He could run the herbs to him himself, but he didn't want any part in training.
"I can go get him if you want," Oakpaw said. "Cinderfur's so busy, he probably won't even notice he's gone."
Littlecloud nodded. "Bring him here and tell him he needs to rest." He scanned the camp, only seeing Tallpoppy tucked away in the shelter of an elder bush. "Where is everyone?" Cats should be resting to recover from their illness, not out training!
Oakpaw shifted uncomfortably, once again glancing at the medicine den. "Nightstar's become paranoid," he murmured. "He thinks that there might be a battle with ThunderClan soon, after the news of them harboring Brokentail. He wants ShadowClan to be ready for anything going forward, whether that means battle or this disease."
Littlecloud lashed his tail. Nightstar should know better, sick or not. "Is Runningnose with him now?"
Oakpaw nodded. "In the leader's den."
Littlecloud blinked at him, grabbing the herbs and dashing off to the far corner of the clearing. He might as well treat Nightstar if he was going to be waiting for Wetfoot.
The small tabby nosed his way through the thin curtain of lichen concealing Nightstar's den. Runningnose was bent over a small black cat who was mostly covered by a large nest of feathers and branches. The white and gray tom looked worried as he tended to the weak leader, stroking his paw over Nightstar's thin flank and nervously clawing at the dusty ground. The medicine cat glanced up as Littlecloud entered the den.
Runningnose gestured to the herbs. "You're sure those are the right ones?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes as he inspected the leaves. "Where did you get these?"
"Not important," Littlecloud said dismissively. "I've got to get these to the rest of the Clan."
Runningnose's fur bristled. "Can't you stay here with Nightstar? I don't want to leave him alone."
The ShadowClan leader managed a heaving cough. "Runningnose, the Clan needs you right now. Go help the others, I'll be fine."
Littlecloud blinked at Nightstar sympathetically. In the days since he became Runningnose's apprentice, the medicine cat hardly spent any time with Littlecloud, never once leaving Nightstar's side. "You stay here with him, I can handle the rest on my own."
Runningnose nodded, turning his back on Littlecloud and focusing on Nightstar.
As Littlecloud left the den, he noticed something flash in Runningnose's eyes. Something almost like panic, like grief.
Littlecloud recognized that. He knew exactly what Runningnose was feeling, because it was the same way he felt when he discovered Whitethroat's body. Grief for a connection between two cats that would be severed at death. A connection that could only be described as love and loyalty and longing.
Blinking back tears, Littlecloud emerged from the den, happy to see both Oakpaw and Webfoot sitting beside the medicine den, talking quietly as they waited for herbs. Wetfoot's blue eyes softened at the sight of his brother, though his body shuddered with a violent cough.
"I've missed you," Wetfoot croaked, smiling at Littlecloud. "Has Whitethroat returned with you?"
Littlecloud opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated. Was he to inform the Clan of Whitethroat's death or would that be too much for them to handle right now? "No - he was sicker than I was, so he stayed with Cinderpelt."
Wetfoot nodded, gesturing to the herbs at Littlecloud's paws. "Those for me?" he asked playfully.
"Take two," Littlecloud said, nudging two small leaves toward his brother. "There's plenty for everyone." Littlecloud remembered the stash of coltsfoot and other herbs Cinderpelt had left by the Thunderpath tunnel. He could always go back and get more if the Clan needed it.
Wetfoot grinned at Littlecloud. "I really appreciate it," he said, his words broken as he coughed again. "And thanks for helping Oakpaw out. He's been taking very good care of me when you were away," Wetfoot added proudly, his eyes flicking to his apprentice. Oakpaw's green gaze brightened at his mentor's kind words.
"Now, go treat the others," Wetfoot said, his voice still weak despite the herbs he'd eaten a moment before. "Oakpaw and I are going to get some rest."
"That's probably a good idea," Littlecloud purred. "Take that last leaf at moonhigh and see me in the morning if you still don't feel well."
Wetfoot bowed his head. "Have you seen Nightstar yet?"
Littlecloud nodded. "It doesn't seem like he's doing too well." When he had left the Clan nearly half a moon ago, Nightstar had been braving the sickness very well and seemed fit enough to hunt. Now, however, Nightstar hardly had the strength to stand.
"He isn't," Wetfoot said darkly. "And neither is Cinderfur. I'm not sure who will lead us if both of them-"
"That won't be the case," Littlecloud interrupted. There had to be hope that both cats would pull through this.
Wetfoot shrugged, but Littlecloud could still see doubt shining in his eyes. "I hope you're right," he muttered. "Go treat the rest of the Clan. They're at the usual training spot, by the rotten pine."
Littlecloud nodded his thanks before saying goodbye to his brother and snatching the herbs that lay on the ground. He had a whole Clan to take care of, and if Runningnose wasn't able to help him, he had to be ready to do it himself.
☆☆☆☆☆
It was nearing midnight by the time Littlecloud returned to Whitethroat's body.
He had managed to do little else but cry for the past few hours. There was no trace of the lavender scent Whitethroat had carried in life - as Littlecloud buried his nose in Whitethroat's thin fur, he could only detect decay and the acrid stench of the Thunderpath. His body looked even smaller now, his limbs curled beneath him and his fur flat against his spine. His pelt clung to his bones, outlining each and every one of his ribs. Most of the blood had dried by now, leaving an ugly brown gash across the dry earth. Littlecloud had tried to drag him to a better gravesite, but he didn't have enough strength to do so, though he wasn't sure if that was due to his sickness or his grief. So he had done the best he could to dig a grave right beside the Thunderpath. It wasn't very deep, but it would keep away vultures and foxes. Littlecloud just couldn't bring himself to lower Whitethroat into it.
The chill of the night was starting to set in, however. Littlecloud knew that he had to check in on his Clanmates sooner or later anyway. He could hold vigil in camp.
But, just like Runningnose had insisted on staying with Nightstar, Littlecloud did not want to leave Whitethroat out here alone.
Littlecloud drew in an unsteady breath. "I'm so so sorry, Whitethroat," he whispered, shutting his eyes tight as if that would make the world disappear. "I should have saved you. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you.
"You didn't deserve this. You got better, Whitethroat, you got better. You could have returned to the Clan, you could've been a warrior with the rest of your Clanmates instead of hiding from everything all the time.
"And I could have told you that I love you."
Littlecloud held that secret near and dear to his heart. He had never told anyone - relationships between medicine cats were forbidden, so why bother exposing himself like that?
Though now he wished he could have told Whitethroat himself.
Littlecloud did the best he could to smooth over Whitethroat's thinning fur, which made him look even smaller, but more peaceful. With a shaking paw, Littlecloud reached over and closed Whitethroat's empty blue eyes, quickly becoming choked up as he did so. Another fresh sob pierced the air, alerting a nearby crow.
The last thing Littlecloud wanted to do was lower Whitethroat into his grave. At the very least, Littlecloud wanted to have a proper burial for him, back at the camp, but he knew the Clan wouldn't take the news of his death lightly. No, it was better to tell them he had run off, afraid of the Carrionplace disease, to become a loner. Better to let them think he was happy and safe and healthy elsewhere.
Littlecloud sighed heavily with defeat. He'd been here all night. His Clan needed him - surely Whitethroat would have understood that.
With a great amount of effort, Littlecloud eased Whitethroat into the grave, suddenly realizing why so many elders were needed to bury the dead. Reality set in again, as Littlecloud took in the sight of Whitethroat's sporadic limbs and ghostly
Another sob gripped his body. What was he supposed to do without Whitethroat? He was the only cat Littlecloud had ever felt a connection with. How was he supposed to go on without him?
Littlecloud began to scrape soil over Whitethroat's body. It would've had to be like this anyways, he convinced himself. As a medicine cat, he couldn't take a mate. Maybe it would've hurt more, if Whitethroat was alive and Littlecloud would have to go every day seeing him and knowing they could never be together.
At least they had half moon gatherings. The next time Littlecloud met with StarClan, he'd find Whitethroat's spirit. It wouldn't be the same, but it'd be something.
Maybe then Littlecloud would be brave enough to tell him how he felt.
Even if it was too late.