Emberthorn - pretty ginger she-cat with light blue eyes

Jaggedwind - muscular brown tabby tom with amber eyes

Feathersong - white she-cat with yellow eyes

Rockfall - brown-and-white tom with blue eyes

Rosepaw - light cream she-cat with blue eyes

Emberthorn sighed, padding into the medicine cat's den. She had been exhausted after tending to the clan.

Snakepaw had gotten stuck in a rose bush, and she had to tend to him early in the morning. It didn't help that he was squirming around like a worm the entire time. Oh, how she wanted to stuff the thorns down his throat!

Right after that Robinkit was sent to her. She looked like she was suffocating. A few yarrow leaves later she found out Robinkit inhaled a mossball. Shrewkit wouldn't be leaving the nursery for a while.

A few minutes after that, Lionfang was sent to the den. The elder had accidentally cut open his paw. The entire time she was tending to him he wouldn't shut up about the time he broke his leg. Emberthorn was about ready to slash at him.

Right after that Dustcloud found his way into the medicine den. The warrior, young and naive, barely able to be called a warrior, had somehow sprained his paw. Emberthorn had a rising suspicion that he purposely sprained it, considering the entire time he looked like he was trying to hit on her.

And just now she finished tending to Lilybloom. The queen was having difficulties producing milk. At least she was quiet, since Robinkit and Shrewkit were sleeping. The urge to scream and make them wake up and have a temper tantrum was overwhelming, although she held it back.

Now it was moonhigh, and she hoped the rest of the clan would allow her to sleep. They were all like kits! If she could, she would let every single one die.

Be careful what you wish for.

Emberthorn had woken up, seeing a cat pad into her den. Rockfall, her older brother, only by a few minutes though.

His pelt was mostly a brown tabby, with a white muzzle, underbelly, paws, and tail tip. His eyes were a soft blue.

"Hi Rockfall..." she mumbled.

"Emberthorn, I..." He was cut off by a flurry of coughing, at which Emberthorn would normally not care about. This was different. This was blood.

It splattered on the ground, staining it permanently with blood.

"... Help..." he muttered quietly, coughing even more intently.

Emberthorn was panicking, the ginger she-cat going through every single possibility in her head. Cobwebs were for bleeding... Could she use those? Except... She had no clue where the bleeding was...

"... I-It h-hurts..." Rockfall was laying on the ground, starting to create a puddle.

Immediately she grabbed some poppy seeds.

"Open your mouth wide and eat these." Emberthorn gently set the seeds on his tongue, not caring that she had blood on her nose.

Rockfall did as he was told, swallowing the seeds. Emberthorn gently pulled open his mouth, lifting up his tongue and checking about. His entire mouth was covered in blood, stained red, as if his mouth were a room that was freshly painted.

It even smelt bad too.

With a mossball, she cleaned off his mouth, finally able to see through all the blood.

But not a cut was to be seen.

Confused, she checked again.

Stepping back, she allowed Rockfall to cough some more. He was drenched in sweat, and looked tired. (Do cats even sweat?)

Emberthorn stepped out into the camp, not seeing anyone.

She grabbed a mossball, dunking it in some water near the medicine den. If her paws and nose weren't covered in blood, she would have smelt the odd scent, making the water smell sour and bitter. (Just think gasoline)

She set it down. "Drink this," she meowed.

But she was too late. Rockfall did not move, instead he lay there in a pile of blood.

"No!" she wailed, pressing her nose into his side. As she did so, a large amount of blood was hurled up from him. She didn't care. Her brother was dead.

She sobbed and cried into his pelt, until soon an organ was hurled up.

She picked him up by the scruff, carrying him over to a nest. She wouldn't allow herself to think he was dead. He couldn't be! The idea was so insane, she was laughing to herself. Quietly laughing, chuckling.

A bit after that, Feathersong walked into the den. Her pelt was the color of snow, except for her tail, which was brown. Her eyes were the color of fresh honey.

It was like Rockfall's corpse wasn't lying in the corner of the den, Emberthorn's mother said nothing.

"Emberthorn... I... Can't... Breathe..." she mumbled, flopping down on the den floor.

Emberthorn, thankfully, had stopped laughing by now.

She shoved her paw down her throat, since she had used the last of the yarrow leaves on Rockfall. There was nothing in her throat.

Pulling her paw out, she flicked it. Saliva flew off of her paw, landing on the den floor.

"There's nothing there..." she mumbled. Turning around, she picked up some honey.

"Eat this." She dripped some honey onto Feathersong's tongue. The older she-cat nodded softly, before swallowing the honey.

Emberthorn grimaced. The honey would work after a little bit, although she wasn't sure if Feathersong would make it.

Feathersong let out a soft-yet-chilling screeching. Her bulge was forming in her stomach...Or rather, several small lumps.

Emberthorn had some cobwebs nearby, and she grabbed them, wrapping them around Feathersong's stomach, hoping it would stop whatever was in her stomach.

Alas, it did not.

The bulges squirmed, twisted, until they could no longer be confined to her stomach. Maggots, worms, flies of many types burst from her stomach, flying and squirming out.

Emberthorn couldn't stand to watch her mother in so much pain, so she did the only thing she could - kill her herself.

She slammed her claws down on her throat, hoping that she was dead.

A small smile rested on Feathersong's face, while Emberthorn couldn't believe what she just did. Her own mother, dead at her own paws.

She felt sick to her stomach. Seeing the two corpses of her mother and brother, one lying in a pool of their own blood, while the other was swarming with maggots and insects. As a matter of fact, one was making its way out of her eye.

Emberthorn just turned around and vomited.

She picked up Rockfall by his scruff, dragging him to the center of camp. She would have a vigil for them tonight.

She carried her mother into the center of camp, so she would lay beside him as they made their journey into the heavens.

But why did she still feel like there was more?

Padding back into her den, Emberthorn lay down in her nest. Would some sleep help?

But she couldn't fall asleep. Everything smelt of death, with pools of blood and maggots, along with an organ coughed up by Rockfall. Upon closer examination, she noticed it was some sort of kidney, possibly a liver or a lung. Either way, it was dark with blood, a deep, dark crimson.

Soon another cat found their way into her den.

Looking up with tired eyes, puffy with bags underneath, she saw Rosepaw pad into her den. Coughing, like Rockfall. Suffocating, like Feathersong. Dying, like Emberthorn.

Rosepaw opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out, only more blood. Blood. There was so much of it.

It poured from her eyes, her ears, her nose.

It sickened Emberthorn. It made her want to kill herself. Her own sister, her little sister, dying. Emberthorn, a medicine cat, a brave and confident one, knowing there was nothing she could do.

So she ripped open Rosepaw's stomach with one fell swoop.

Digging her claws into her neck, her eyes squeezed shut as Rosepaw died.

"Your wish... Has been granted..." Rosepaw choked out as her eyes rolled back, blood pooling around her.

She looked so shocked. Emberthorn didn't blame her.

One last thing to do.

Emberthorn lifted her claws, her bloodstained claws, towards her neck, pushing them down, then...

"Emberthorn!"

A voice. Was it someone from the Dark Forest? To claim her as their own? She was expecting it.

Opening her eyes, she noticed she was in her den. Still?

A brown tabby tom, with bright amber eyes.

No mistaking it, it was definitely Dustcloud.

"Emberthorn! Wake up!"

Groaning, the medicine cat looked around. No blood... No organs... No dead Rosepaw, and thankfully no maggots.

It still reeked in the den, probably from a pile of vomit, courtesy of Emberthorn.

"I-I'm not... What?" she said quietly. She wanted to say more, but a burning feeling on her neck prevented her.

"Were you what? You tried to kill yourself in your sleep! It was a good thing Rosepaw came in when she did, you almost stuffed your claws through your throat... What happened?"

Emberthorn shuddered at the memory.

"A... A nightmare... Just... A nightmare..."

Dustcloud grimaced, before sitting down next to her, wrapping his tail around her.

And this time, she didn't mind it.