don't feel well, decided to write. very stream-of-consciousness, the second part is, so apologies for it in advance.

enjoy the chapter.

Mapleshade had moved to the nursery, her belly making her too clumsy to perform warrior duties, the day that everything went wrong. She'd dragged some of the moss from her nest in the warriors' den to the nursery so that it wouldn't feel too different, then headed out into the forest to collect moss. To her surprise, Daisythorn was actually friendly; she'd helped clear out a spot for the nest and kept her curious kits out of the way. It was strange to talk and joke with the she-cat who she'd quietly resented for so long, and Mapleshade had to wonder if maybe she was holding a senseless grudge over nothing.

They parted amicably when Moonkit and Goosekit ran out into the camp, forcing Daisythorn to leave and watch over them, and Mapleshade left camp, mind whirling in surprise that she had so easily chatted with her fellow queen.

Queen. It felt strange to think of herself that way – she'd never been a motherly cat, and in truth had never actually considered having kits seriously. Even when she was with Pebblestep, it had never crossed her mind. Still, she was surprised to find herself happy at the prospect.

Pebblestep had sworn that he wouldn't tell anyone, that he would never harm a hair on their pelts. Mapleshade didn't want to think about the future though, how her mate would deal with potentially facing his kits in battle. She hoped it would be enough for him to see them in Gatherings, perhaps become their friend.

And so, with her mind turning to Pebblestep, it was little surprise that Mapleshade's paws led her to Sunningrocks. It wasn't entirely ridiculous that she went there for moss, since the closeness of the river meant that there would be plenty of moss, but it would be quite a walk back to camp with the bundles of greenery.

With a sigh, she unsheathed her claws and went to work at a clump of moss – only to be interrupted with a soft greeting.

"Mapleshade, what are you doing here?"

She looked up, startled, to see Pebblestep across the river. His eyes were narrowed as he watched her, and she frowned, puzzled by his stern gaze. "I'm collecting moss."

"Why here?" he asked seriously. "What if one of our patrols found you here? Our kits could be hurt if you were attacked."

"I don't know. There's plenty of moss here," Mapleshade pointed out, and with a hint of shyness, "and I hoped I might see you."

Pebblestep lashed his tail, and she was alarmed to see that he was actually quite angry for some reason. "You could fall in the river and drown! Our kits would die! Aren't you thinking at all?"

"Of course!" she replied, stung. "Why do you think I'm getting moss? I've moved into the nursery so that they won't be hurt."

His eyes stretched wide, and Mapleshade was alarmed to see disgusted shock in his blue gaze. "What? You're only just now moving to the nursery? You mean you've been running around in the forest for this long, with no concern for my kits?"

"My" kits? Mapleshade thought incredulously. Not "ours" anymore? What in the name of StarClan is he talking about? "Blizzardpelt said it was perfectly fine to be out and about at this stage," she pointed out. "He said it's perfectly sensible to keep up with my duties as a warrior, since the exercise is good for the kits."

"He doesn't know what he's talking about, then!" Pebblestep snapped, and Mapleshade was taken aback at the anger in his tone. "I can't believe you're foolish enough to listen to him when he obviously has no idea what to do about such things! My kits could be hurt or even killed in the forest, and he just tells you to go for a stroll so you can keep trim? Ridiculous!" Disgust laced his words as he paced back and forth, lashing his tail furiously.

Though she'd done her best to keep her cool, Mapleshade couldn't help but react to the way Pebblestep was speaking to her. "I should hope he knows what he's doing, considering that he's the medicine cat," she retorted sharply. "And it's good for a queen to be in shape – it's not about being 'trim,'" her voice dripped with sarcasm as she repeated his words back to him, "it's about keeping my kits healthy."

Pebblestep froze in place when she said the last bit and turned to stare at her, eyes cold as chips of ice. "Your kits? They're mine as well, you know."

"Then maybe you should keep saying ours instead of mine," Mapleshade growled, curling her claws. "What's wrong with you, Pebblestep? You were so happy when I told you I was expecting, and now… what is this?"

"I'm concerned for my kits," he seethed, turning to face her fully. "As well I should be, since you obviously don't care about their safety!"

Her mouth dropped open in shock at the callous accusation. "Do you have bees in your brain? I am worried about them! I've done everything Blizzardpelt said to do, because I want them to be healthy! Am I supposed to ignore everything the medicine cat says just because you think you know more about kits than he does – him, a cat who's delivered kits since he was six moons old?"

Pebblestep curled his lips and hissed. "You must be mad," he snarled, "to think I'd trust any ThunderClan cat with my kits. They're precious. We can't take any chances with them!"

Mapleshade bristled – an intimidating sight, with her claws unsheathed and her thick fur – and hissed. "Get out of my sight, you idiot. You know less about caring for kits than a badger, even though you're acting an awful lot like one. You're not the one carrying these kits, and you obviously don't have any idea what's good for them. And if you can't trust a ThunderClan cat with them, you've got the wrong mate!" She spat the last words at him, enraged.

"If they end up hurt," Pebblestep warned as he turned to leave, "I'll – I'll – I'll shred you." Then he was gone, pushing through the reeds on RiverClan's territory and vanishing into their swaying stalks.

She watched him go, fur still fluffed up and deeply unsettled by his strange behavior. Blizzardpelt had mentioned that most parents became very protective of unborn kits, but he'd never spoke of anything this extreme. She couldn't think of any reason Pebblestep might be so protective – perhaps because he couldn't be there to protect her, he had grown nervous for their kits. Still, that didn't explain what bothered her most – the way he had spoken about the kits. His, he'd said, as if she didn't exist. He'd spoken to her as if she was just caring for the only important things in his life, as if she meant nothing to her.

Shuddering, Mapleshade went back to collecting moss before heading back to camp.

When she arrived, it felt as if the entire Clan was staring at her. Their gazes were filled with concern, their eyes wide, and she wondered for a brief, horrible moment if someone had been there to see her altercation with Pebblestep. Then Blizzardpelt took a few cautious steps towards her, and she was momentarily relieved before a new fear seized her – something else was wrong.

"Mapleshade," he meowed softly, and she looked at him dumbly. Something was wrong, something else; even after Pebblestep's bizarre actions, she couldn't have a break. Someone else died, she thought, mind going to Ravenwing, and then, Something's wrong with my kits and no one noticed until I left. Something happened when I was gone something's wrong something is wrong oh StarClan but then Blizzardpelt met her gaze and she felt herself relax, realizing that her muscles had coiled up tightly as she imagined everything that might be wrong.

"It's Willowheart," Blizzardpelt mewed, and his tone was somber. Mapleshade's thoughts were still hazy with vague fear, but at his words everything ground to a halt. Razor sharp focus on him, shutting out the camp, shutting out everything except the medicine cat's apologetic eyes.

"What happened?" she forced out through a barrier in her throat that hadn't been there before, her voice croaking. He blinked, and Mapleshade felt as if she was floating in a sea of pale blue the color of his eyes, the only thing she could see. They swallowed everything around her, leaving her feeling stranded and small.

"It's best to just show you." His voice was very soft, very calm, the voice of someone who understood how she was feeling – no, she realized, the voice of someone who knew how she was reacting, the voice of someone who was just trying to minimize the damage to everyone else. Blizzardpelt was trying to shut her down so that she didn't break down in front of everyone. He could hear the tension in her voice, see the brokenness in her eyes, and he wanted to stop her from feeling so that everyone else could feel fine. He would take her to Willowheart and everyone else would watch her go in relief, thinking to themselves, Oh, Mapleshade didn't break down, she must be fine, everything's okay, let's go hunting, nothing wrong here.

It was manipulation, and she hated being manipulated, but she didn't care now. How could she care? Some infinitesimal part of her mind was whispering, You're breaking down already, you're giving up, this isn't normal, you need to snap out of it, feel something, feel anything, do something, stop. She ignored it and became aware that Blizzardpelt had turned towards the medicine den. In her hyper-focused state, it looked as if he had left white, blurring echoes in the place where he had stood. She took a few steps forward, blood roaring in her ears, and the world seemed to shift and grow fuzzy.

One deep inhale. One gusty exhale. She padded after him, keeping up the façade of being normal, being fine, not breaking down. It sounded like someone was whispering in the back of her mind, just out of the corners of her eyes, but when she shifted her gaze to look over, there was no one. Just the Clan, mouths frozen shut. No one made a sound. She vaguely realized that she had dropped the moss she'd collected when Blizzardpelt had first spoken.

Each step felt like wading through the river, and it took enormous strength of will not to panic, to remember that she was in the camp and she was dry, had never even touched the water for that matter. Her breathing seemed very loud and raspy to her ears, but no one seemed to be reacting. Maybe she was fine. Maybe they were too afraid to say anything. Maybe.

Blizzardpelt brushed into the tunnel of ferns that led to the medicine den. The wide fronts bobbed and weaved as she passed them, waving as trying to capture her attention, but she was determined to keep focused on Blizzardpelt to find out what was happening to Willowheart, what was happening to her sister.

He led her to the grassy clearing and stood to the side, and she saw her sister and her heart leaped into her throat.

Willowheart looked bad. Bad. She was sitting, front paws tucked around her chest and tail wrapped around her body so that she appeared smaller than usual. Her body was so tiny, so bony. Her nose was pale, almost as pale as her silver fur – which was patchy and knotted, as if she had licked it away in clumps. Her eyes were horribly sunken into her skull, staring straight ahead dully, looking but not seeing. Occasionally she would twitch slightly, her tails flipping madly or one paw flailing in a violent spasm. She stank of the dirtplace, and there was a squirrel in front of her as if Blizzardpelt had tried to feed her but hadn't succeeded. Her breath was rank and sour.

And she was purring, her breath coming in short, harsh gasps.

Purring endlessly and fiercely.

Mapleshade's focus fell apart and the world around her became clear, the strange swimming motion gone. She took a single step forward towards her sister, towards Willowheart, and the scrawny silver tabby's purring suddenly became frantic.

She charged forward and knelt, huddling by Willowheart and purring soothingly into her ear. Her sister had always radiated heat, but now she was so cold, so cold. Mapleshade tilted her head towards Blizzardpelt, whose gaze was careful.

"It's not the falling sickness," he meowed quietly. "Mistyfur and I were sure it was, but it's not. It's something else, something worse. The falling sickness was only one part of it. Her frailty, this – this emptiness, is something else entirely. And I don't think it can last. She's never been this bad, Mapleshade. I don't know how to put it any clearer than that."

She understood. Oh, she understood. It was as clear as day. Willowheart was always sickly. She was always frail. Now she was hollow, as if her mind had broken apart and left only this purring husk of a cat who was not her sister. Blizzardpelt meant that she was dying, but Mapleshade knew the truth. Willowheart was dead. Perhaps she had been dead for a long time, and her shell had gone on ignoring food and hiding away from everyone and purring blankly. This was no cat. This was a corpse.

Mapleshade prayed Willowheart would understand when she stood up, not looking at her, not looking at Blizzardpelt. She trudged away, leaving the medicine den. She felt as though a yawning pit had opened up in her stomach as she padded across the camp towards the warriors' den. Before she could go inside, Shredtail slid out.

"You don't sleep here anymore," he growled, so softly that only they could hear him. "You're in the nursery now."

She had never needed comfort before. She had never needed a friend at her side. She had never needed to be in silence with someone she cared about. She had never needed him. Not compared to how she needed him now. No one else would do. Ravenwing was dead. Blizzardpelt was no help. Her parents were grieving, too. Breezestar was still too distant. Only Shredtail would do, this cat who had stopped being her friend long ago. Mapleshade made as if to lean against him.

He took one step back. It was a small, rapid movement, so subtle that no one else would notice. But to Mapleshade it was agonizingly obvious. She raised her head to meet his gaze and saw only revulsion.

It was only a few tail-lengths to the nursery, and Mapleshade somehow managed to get there without stumbling. In the time she'd been with Willowheart, some cat had brought in the moss she'd collected and spread it out, forming a nest. She sank into it, ignoring the startled mews from Daisythorn's kits, and lay there in silence, not closing her eyes, barely daring to breathe.

Willowheart died that night, alone.

will explain what's wrong with willowheart when nothing's wrong with me, hope you enjoyed.