Ashpaw trotted through the clearing. Coughing and wheezing could be heard from the medicine. Only recently, a fatal bout of greencough had swept through the Riverclan camp, leaving her father and three littermates dead while her mother was in the medicine den now, her life slipping away with every heartbeat spent inside that wretched place. Ashpaw would give anything to trade her life for her mother's, or at least trade places with her.
She wasn't a kit anymore. She knew what was going on. What was going to happen to her and the rest of her clanmates. They were going to be dead soon. Not even ThunderClan had wanted to shelter the remaining survivors in fear that the sickness would spread from the RiverClan cats' pelts like fleas. All hope that had once fueled her into thinking her mother would get better was fading away into nothingness every time she heard a wheezy breath or coughing of any kind. Her friend, Sparrowpaw, still believed their clan would pull through, and Ashpaw had the hardest time explaining to the naïve apprentice that it was only a matter of time before they would fall ill as well and, eventually, go to StarClan. Sparrowpaw had refused to believe her and stormed off, hope still swelling in her small heart. Ashpaw's heart had fallen to her paws when she realized it would take death itself to prove the apprentice wrong. No-one can stop this sickness, Ashpaw thought, glumly, having already succumbed to the thought of going to StarClan.
Ashpaw glared up at the starry night sky. "Why can't you stop this!" she yowled, thinking of her mother and over half of her clan, dying in the medicine den. She waited for the stars to reply, but received no answer. "That's what I thought." she hissed, stalking away and hiding in the safety of a nearby dead bush.
She scolded herself for believing that StarClan would answer her. The rest of her clan had stopped praying long ago. And Ashpaw was convinced no-one believed in them except foolish Sparrowpaw. How can Sparrowpaw still believe in those old dead cats, Ashpaw thought sourly. She froze when she realized what had just gone through her mind. No, she shook her head vigorously. StarClan can still help us, she winced when she realized that was what her mother would have told her if she were standing here now.
"Mother..." she mewled like a small, newborn kit. She stared at her mother's flank, watching as it shook with every breath. A tall, black she-cat grabbed Ashpaw from behind and dragged her away from the medicine den.
"Get away from there, Ashpaw!" the she-cat hissed, her voice muffled from the fur on the apprentice's scruff. "You'll get sick too!" Ashpaw thrashed around in the warrior's grip.
"We'll all get sick soon!" she growled. "Don't you see! It's not going to stop! We'll all be dead soon!" the warrior's grip loosened slightly.
"Ashpaw..." she hesitated. "Don't think that. StarClan will-"
"StarClan will what?" Ashpaw wailed. "They're just a bunch of dead cats! They can't do anything to help us! I bet they want us up there with them!" the black warrior took a step back.
"Ashpaw. Don't lose faith just yet." she said softly.
"I already have." Ashpaw snarled, walking away.