Shade

Chapter Seventy Two

Shadepool yawned as she padded out of the warriors' den. Greenleaf was coming to an end, and the leaf-fall rains had already started. Hunting patrols had not yet found a lack of fish, though Shadepool knew that RiverClan was lucky enough to have a prey source that generally didn't run out - at least, not unless the river froze over, but even then that was rare.

"Flamefoot!"

A howl sounded from the elders' den. Shadepool barely had time to register it before Singingsoul came haring out of the den like she was never retired. She plunged into the medicine den and disappeared for a while. Concerned, Shadepool forgot about the morning meal she'd been about to get and went straight to the elders' den.

"What's going on?" Shadepool meowed. "Flamefoot?"

"Flamefoot is unwell," Larkfeather meowed tersely. "Look at him."

Shadepool padded closer to the skinny ginger tom. He was definitely sick. His breath was coming out in shallow rasps, and his ribs were jutting out beneath his pelt despite the fact that the rest of the Clan was growing plump on the amount of food they had. He opened his amber eyes, and Shadepool saw the unmistakeable feverish glint in them.

"How are you feeling?" Shadepool asked gently, settling down beside him. He don't seem as if he even had the strength to lift his head.

"I don't think that's a very good question," Flamefoot wheezed. Shadepool almost purred.

"Singingsoul's gone to get Featherbreeze," Fireswirl spoke up. "You'll be alright, Flamefoot."

"No I won't." Flamefoot coughed weakly, his whole body heaving. "Look at me. I must be the oldest creature by..." he coughed again. "By the lake."

Shadepool couldn't even bring herself to deny it. He'd been an elder since before she was even born, and she wouldn't exactly call herself young.

"I'm here," Featherbreeze called, hurrying into the den with a wad of herbs. "Here, Flamefoot, I brought tansy and some coltsfoot... have some of this."

Flamefoot pushed the offered herbs away with a white paw and turned his head to cough again. "I don't want them."

"You need them," Featherbreeze insisted.

"I won't live forever," Flamefoot grumbled. "Now's as good a time as ever to go."

"Don't say that!" Fireswirl gasped, as though the thought of his death had never occurred to her.

"I'll say what I please," Flamefoot snarled, but broke off yet again to cough. "I'm dying," he rasped. "There's no use denying it, and there's no use trying to stop it. It's my time."

His flanks heaved with the effort of just trying to keep him alive for a few moments longer. Featherbreeze bowed her head as though she'd accepted what he'd said and was ready to let him go. Shadepool gently licked his fur smooth, feeling him take one last shuddering breath and then go limp.

"He's with StarClan now," the deputy whispered reverently.

Featherbreeze got to her paws. "I'll go get Silverstar. She needs to know about this. The Clan will want to say goodbye."

"I want to help take his body out," Lightningstrike meowed. Shadepool noticed him for the first time, curled up in a nest near the corner of the den. His sightless eyes, edged with thick scars, stared unseeingly into the darkness, but his ears were pricked and his muscles toned and poised as a warrior's. If not for his blindness, he could still be serving his Clan as a warrior.

"Come on, then," Singingsoul murmured gently. She put her tail around Lightningstrike's shoulders and gently guided him over to Flamefoot's body. Lightningstrike bent down and used his nose and whiskers to help him shift the weight onto his broad shoulders.

"Do you want help?" Fireswirl asked anxiously.

"No," Lightningstrike replied simply. "I can carry him."

Shadepool followed as the golden tom carried the limp ginger body out into the centre of the camp. There were a few exclamations of shock, and many cats bowed their heads in respect as the body moved past them.

Silverstar appeared from her den with Featherbreeze, looking unsurprised but grieved to see Flamefoot's body being gently placed on the ground.

"Clanmates!" Silverstar called. "Today we have seen a great warrior move on to hunt with StarClan. Flamefoot served RiverClan diligently for many seasons as a warrior, and was dearly loved for many more as an elder. May he be welcomed into the ranks of StarClan."

Featherbreeze padded forward to stand in front of the limp body. "May StarClan light your path, Flamefoot. May you find good hunting, swift running, and shelter where you sleep."

Shadepool walked over to Flamefoot's body sombrely and bent her head to whisper her final goodbye in his ear. "Thank you for everything you've done for RiverClan. Hunt well in StarClan."

She stepped back to let the rest of the Clan share tongues with him for the last time. Singingsoul and Larkfeather were speaking together, pointing to various spots just outside of the camp. Shadepool guessed that they were picking a spot to bury him.

Shadepool caught sight of Flowerfoot standing a little way off, staring at the cats surrounding Flamefoot, her pelt bristling. The medicine cat shivered and shrank away from them as if she'd just seen something she never wanted to even think of again.

"Are you okay?" Shadepool asked her quietly.

Flowerfoot pressed close to Shadepool, as if the deputy would protect her from whatever she'd just seen. "I - I just had a vision," she whispered. "The warriors were all killed, one by one. I saw them lying in their own blood, every single one-" she broke off and huddled closer to Shadepool.

"What killed them?" the black she-cat asked.

"Their own shadows," Flowerfoot murmured. "They reared up and tore them open like prey as if it were nothing. They only stopped when you came over."

"Well," Shadepool sighed, curling her tail around Flowerfoot, "StarClan has sent less obvious signs before this."

"Yes, I know what it means," Flowerfoot agreed. "The time is close when you will decide ShadowClan's fate - otherwise, RiverClan will be reduced to nothing."