After losing her mother, her friend, and her sister in fairly rapid succession, Bluefur thought she knew everything on how to cope with death and grief. There weren't many cats who could say they had suffered as much as she had–not that it was a competition, of course. She had witnessed Moonflower and Snowfur meet sudden, horrific, bloody ends right in front of her, and she had also seen Sweetpaw suffer an agonizingly painful death that no herbs could soothe. Granted, she hadn't handled their losses particularly well, but that was in the past now. Bluefur felt certain that if she ever lost someone else, she wouldn't break down again.
Right now, however, she was almost positive that she was going to prove herself wrong.
It was clear as day that Fireheart was dying. No matter how much Bluefur tried to deny it, telling herself that she was just overreacting, the fact remained that her former apprentice had been sick for moons with no sign of improvement. She spent nearly all of her time in the medicine den these days, leaving the care of Briarkit and Scorchkit to White-eye. Her once bright fur had turned dull, and her eyes looked empty and exhausted.
The worst part was that Fireheart seemed to have realized her impending fate as well. Despite the pain she must have been in, she had always made an effort to appear cheerful in front of her family, insisting that she needed to keep up a normal lifestyle. She didn't seem interested in doing so anymore. Whenever anyone tried to speak to her, she only responded in grunts or the occasional nod or shake of her head, and Bluefur didn't think she had seen her eat anything for at least three days. Not that she blamed her, of course. If she were in Fireheart's place, Bluefur knew that she wouldn't be too interested in caring for herself either.
"Why does she have to go?" Bluefur whispered to herself. It's not fair! Everyone I love always gets taken from me!
Well, perhaps that wasn't entirely accurate. She still had Whitestorm, after all. But with the way her life had gone so far, it was only a matter of time until he met some sort of untimely end as well.
Bluefur shook her head, staring down at the ground. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as she thought–maybe Fireheart would recover somehow. Featherwhisker was working day and night to try to find a way to cure her; surely he would succeed eventually. There was nobody in the Clan with more knowledge of medicine than him. All Fireheart needed to do was fight against her illness, and the rest would take care of itself.
Who am I kidding, though? she thought miserably. Fireheart wasn't even remotely interested in fighting anymore. It seemed as if she had given up.
"Here, eat this. You need to keep your strength up."
Fireheart cast a brief glance toward Tigerclaw as the dark tabby placed a squirrel beside her but didn't say a word. Letting out a sigh, she poked moodily at the squirrel with a claw. For the past three days, Tigerclaw had been trying to coax her into eating her meals. She knew he meant well, but she just wasn't hungry. With the realization that she was going to die soon, she wasn't sure if she would ever be hungry again.
"Take a bite," Tigerclaw meowed encouragingly. "You'll feel better if you eat."
What's the point, Tigerclaw? Fireheart asked silently, still poking at the bushy-tailed rodent with her claw. We all know that I'm running out of time. A stupid squirrel isn't going to change that.
Sensing that she wasn't going to eat the squirrel anytime soon, Tigerclaw let out a sigh and picked it up again. With one last sorrowful glance over his shoulder, the massive warrior turned around and pushed his way out of the medicine den. Fireheart watched her mate disappear through the fern tunnel, feeling a pang of guilt at the way his tail dragged on the ground behind him. She hated that he was hurting and she especially hated that it was because of her, but there was nothing she could do about it. If StarClan had decided that it was her time to join them, she wouldn't be able to change her fate.
Part of her wanted to curse her warrior ancestors for making her go through this. Her life had been going so well–she had everything she could have ever asked for, and all of a sudden, she found out that she would be dead within a moon or so. It almost felt as if she was being punished for being happy, as though StarClan had decided to drop this on her because they thought she had too many good things in her life. Another part of Fireheart, however, wondered if it had been inevitable anyway. Perhaps she had always been destined to die an early death and StarClan had nothing to do with it.
If I were still a kittypet, I probably wouldn't be blaming a bunch of dead cats right now, she thought to herself, chuckling quietly even though there was nothing funny about the situation.
Fireheart exhaled slowly, staring at the wall of the medicine den. If she were still a kittypet, her Twolegs would have taken her to the vet by now to get her checked out. She knew that the vet used much more advanced medicine than the Clans. Would she have stood a better chance of beating her illness if she had stayed in Twolegplace? On the off chance that she decided to go to a vet now, would they be able to save her?
No, she decided. It was too late to cure her now, she could feel it. Even if she decided to go to a vet–which she had no interest in doing so anyway–they would probably only be able to buy her a little more time. There was no point in abandoning her Clan in exchange for one or two extra moons.
The entrance to the den rustled as Bluefur stepped inside, carrying a bundle of dripping wet moss. Without a word, she padded over to Fireheart and placed the moss in front of her. Fireheart was about to refuse to drink but then, realizing how thirsty she was, reluctantly bent her head to lap up a few droplets of water. It was cool and refreshing, and the flame-colored queen could see Bluefur relax slightly at the sight of her drinking.
"Are you feeling alright?" her former mentor asked. "I can get you something to eat if you want."
"No thanks," Fireheart murmured, shaking her head. "I'm not very hungry."
Bluefur frowned. "You haven't eaten for days," she pointed out. "You must be at least a little hungry."
"I'm really not," Fireheart insisted.
"Well, you should eat something," Bluefur replied. "You need to keep your strength up, after all."
Fireheart just shook her head, letting out a resigned sigh. What was the point in keeping her strength up now? It wouldn't make any difference in the long run–she would still be dying. She was going to spend the rest of her life wasting away in the medicine den, wasting away like some sort of elder because she was too weak to do anything else. A few pieces of prey here and there wouldn't be enough to change her fate. Unfortunately, she could sense that Bluefur wouldn't accept no for an answer, so she nodded reluctantly.
"Fine," she replied flatly, still staring at the wall. "I'll see if I feel up to eating later."
Bluefur opened her mouth to argue, then evidently thought better of it. Nodding, she gave Fireheart a quick lick between her ears before turning and padding out of the den. Fireheart watched her go for a few heartbeats before slowly pulling herself up, climbing out of her nest and stretching her legs out in front of her. With a yawn, she walked around the corner over to where she knew Featherwhisker kept his herbs stored. The silver-gray tom spent most of his time back there, but neither he nor Spottedleaf was anywhere to be seen today. Fireheart suspected that they had gone out to gather more supplies.
Everyone gets to continue on with their regular lives, she thought bitterly. Even the elders do because unlike me, they're supposed to be spending the entire day lying around. I'm the only one who's having her entire purpose snatched away from her.
Maybe things would be easier to handle if she had never joined ThunderClan in the first place. If she had always been destined to die this way, then nobody would have been able to do anything to help her, not Featherwhisker, Spottedleaf, or the vet. But she wouldn't have had to leave her family because she wouldn't have them. She would never have met or fallen in love with Tigerclaw, never befriended Bluefur and Whitestorm, and her kits...her kits wouldn't exist. They would have gone on with their normal lives, never even knowing that she existed.
She should never have joined ThunderClan in the first place. At least that way, it wouldn't hurt as much to have to leave.
