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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Blood was everywhere. It was leaking from his mouth, his nose, and his eyes. It was everywhere. Hemlockfoot looked down, noticing the limp and bloody corpse of the WindClan tom known as Rowantail. Oh, poor Rowantail. His untimely fate was destined to haunt Hemlockfoot forever. The medicine cat licked his lips, admiring the now rotten body as he flexed his claws into the ground. A sudden cough erupted from his throat, blood gurgling out with it as he collapsed and began to shake. The voices, they were back...
"Hemlockfoot! Wake up! We have to talk to you!" Molestar demanded, jabbing his paws into Hemlockfoot's side.
The medicine cat jumped up, gasping for air. Slowly, he began to realize everything was okay. He was alive, he was healthy, and he was not currently standing over a cat that he had just eaten.
"What do you want?" the tom grumbled as he eyed the leader.
"I've been worried about you. Your pelt is a mess and I've never seen someone so agitated. Is everything alright?"
"Nothing is wrong," Hemlockfoot snapped. "I just had a nightmare. If something was wrong then I'd tell you."
Molestar frowned. The black tom seemed unusually large compared to the medicine cat. Hemlockfoot could feel his first rising as he began to crouch down in a defensive state. Why did everyone seem to be assuming he was a killer?
I'm not a killer. They don't know what I did. All I did was save myself by using a cat that would die soon anyways. That isn't that bad...
"Well? Do you need herbs or something?" Hemlockfoot asked him coldly.
The black tom twitched his whiskers. "What is wrong with you? I've never seen you so upset. Are you sick?"
Sick? Am I sick? I can't be sick. But maybe I am. Maybe Rowantail gave me bloodcough. Oh StarClan, I'm going to die! I'm going to have seizures and paranoia and die a horrible death!
"I'm not upset... just mildly stressed."
Rainpaw stepped up behind the leader, looking at his mentor. "You don't have to be afraid of us. I know you're stressed but you are acting so unusual. Please, just tell us what's wrong!"
Hemlockfoot looked away from his apprentice. All he could feel was embarrassed about his feelings and disgust for what he'd done. How could he even go about telling his friends about his actions? Surely they'd hate him, or worse, kill him in retaliation. Either way, the results didn't seem good.
"Bloodcough is a scary disease and there's nothing to it. I'm just worried we're all going to get it and die horrible deaths," he confessed.
Molestar sat down and neatly wrapped his tail around his paws. "Hemlockfoot, I've never seen you this stressed. Not when Whiskerpaw had a branch fall on him, not when your own father got nearly killed by a badger, and certainly not when we've had bad fits of greencough go through camp. Surely there's more to it?"
Hemlockfoot exhaled and inhaled heavily. Each one of those had stressed him out to the point where he had been physically sick. How could anyone have the audacity to assume he was upset about something else?
I'm innocent in their eyes. They're never going to figure out what I did. Just play stupid and dodge it.
... But what if they did know? What if they had seen me? What if they were plotting to kill me right now over this? What if Molestar knew Rainpaw was ready enough and figured now is the best time to kill me?
"I need to go cool off. It's just stress and nightmares, stop being so worried," he scolded warmly before stalking off as quickly as he could.
The tom could feel their gazes burning into him as he made for the camp's exit. Anxiety seemed to be stabbing him all over, like a hawk stabbing its recent catch. Shakily, he made his way through the pine trees and to his secret hideout. Nobody needed to know about anything.
