Another challenge, the 'The Sickness – a challenge' challenge. Hope you enjoy!
Get That Limp Out of Your Step!
"Hurry up!" Applepaw called in excitement. Her mentor, the pale tabby named Heronpelt, was limping behind her. If Applepaw had been older she would've known of the dangerous disease that had stricken the camp when she had been just a tiny kit, the disease that caused sores to appear all over the cat, causing the cat to limp around in pain. And it was all too easy to catch. If a sore broke and a cat, for example, walked over the liquid and then later licked it clean, they would be infected. Another way to get it is, say an elder catches the disease, and an apprentice kills a tick or flea on the elder. The apprentice will catch the disease, because the insect has infected blood in it, and when the apprentice kills the bug, it swallows at least some of the blood. It was spread into the camp through infected prey. The prey never showed the signs, though, and looked like every other bit of prey. They just transferred it. And what made the disease all the worse was it was terribly deadly.
So Applepaw was completely oblivious to the obvious signs some of her Clanmates were showing, including the entire elders' den. What she didn't know… was she had it as well. It was only a matter of minutes before the sores would appeared…
(Insert Line)
When the young she-cat returned to camp she was limping like her mentor, biting back moans of pain. The leader, a silver tabby named Creekstar, trotted over to Applepaw and asked, "My dear, what's wrong?" The silver she-cat was Applepaw's mother and knew what was wrong. But she didn't want to admit it.
"I have sores all over," the apprentice replied. "And it hurts to walk…" Then she turned towards the medicine den and said, "I'm gonna visit Tansypetal and Aloepaw."
Then she limped away towards the shadowy den.
Instantly she jumped onto the giant stone in the center of the clearing, calling, "All cats old enough to catch their own prey, join here for a CliffClan meeting!"
You may be wondering, who's CliffClan? They're the little-known sixth Clan of the forest territory. You'll learn eventually why you know nothing of them.
When the cats had gathered around Creekstar she announced, "We have another epidemic of Limp Step!"
Several cats gasped in shock, then a little voice rose from the clearing.
"What's Limp Step?"
Creekstar's daughter had emerged from the medicine den at the sound of a meeting and now watched her mother with curiosity. With a solemn sigh Creekstar realized she would learn soon enough and said, "It's a disease where the cat limps due to sores covering the body, and the cat almost always dies…"
Applepaw just stared at her mother, shaking her head faintly in shock. Before she could deny it, though, a group of cats jumped away as one cat fell writhing to the ground, as if unable to breath. It was old Faintstripe, pale gray fur on end, an odd liquid leaking out of her muzzle. It had happened. The first fatality. As Faintstripe struggled for a gasp of air Creekstar said, "Sores build up in the throat suddenly, preventing the cat from eating and, soon after, breathing. They suffocate to death." At this moment, Faintstripe fell limp, the same liquid that had been coming from her throat now staining her fur. "And all the sores mysteriously break just when death occurs."
A few cats groaned in disgust as a couple of drops spattered onto their fur. They were about to lick them clean, but Creekstar cried out, "Don't! You'll get infected too!"
At that very moment the same event happened, except it was Heronpelt. The warrior opened and closed her mouth, obviously no air coming in. It only took a minute or two for her to die, a pool of the strange liquid spreading around her prone form. Creekstar took a half step backwards and whispered, "My Clan is doomed." She saw several cats crying, for they, too, had the disease. The only infected cat that wasn't was Applepaw. Creekstar locked eyes with her and the young she-cat said, "I love you, mom." Then her paw flashed and she fell, writhing, to the ground. It took only a matter of seconds for her to bleed out through the self-inflicted wounds.
"StarClan save us…"
(Insert Line)
It had been several moons since the epidemic of Limp Step had infected the camp. Creekstar was one of the very few left, and only because of her multiple lives. She had only one left, though. The other cats were her deputy, Treefall, her sister, Wolfcry, and the elder, Stumpfoot. They were all infected. And, when she had been hunting with her mate, he had suffocated and she had accidentally swallowed the liquid. CliffClan was doomed. But, not entirely. She knew Treefall had a loner for a mate. She had known for a long time. And she knew that the she-cat was expecting kits. She had heard Treefall telling himself about it when she eavesdropped on him once. CliffClan would live on.
That was why, in the end, Creekstar embraced her death with open paws. She didn't even try to breath. She let the sores clog her throat and suffocate her. Treefall, dead yesterday. Wolfcry, dead before Creekstar only moments before. Stumpfoot, killed himself like Applepaw, except he jumped from a cliff breaking his neck. But Creekstar let herself slip into the eternal blackness, knowing she would meet them soon. And that her beloved Clan's blood would not die out forever, in Treefall's kits.
When Creekstar saw color again, she knew she was dead. Stars glittered on her paws and, right in front of her, stood her light-specked daughter, Applepaw. The she-cat looked in the peak of health, and Creekstar jumped to her paws, touching noses with her daughter. Creekstar whispered, "I'm so glad I can finally be with you again, my child."
"Me too, momma," the apprentice whispered, tears appearing in the corner of her eyes.
Creekstar noticed this and asked, "What's the matter, little one?"
"It's just, now that you've died, CliffClan is gone forever…"
"No, no, no," Creekstar soothed. "You should know, Treefall has a mate expecting kits – a loner – that will be half-CliffClan."
"Really?" Applepaw asked, looking her mother in the eye.
"One-hundred-percent."