Author's Note: Wow! Chapter 20 already! It's hard to believe how time flies! If you like long stories though, don't worry, because we still got a long ways to go yet! Also, sorry for a long gap after a chapter with a cliffhanger (hopefully that keeps you guys all hooked, though!) Thank you to all of you who are taking time to read my ridiculously long fanfiction XD, and taking the time to review! I really appreciate it, especially during summer vacation when there's probably many other things you could be doing. I appreciate all your kind words and constructive feedback, it really helps me to grow as a writer! Hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Happy writing, (and/or reading, if that's more your thing,)

-Rosie ;)

Chapter Twenty

Mossfoot's head snapped up at the words. "Quick- I need two of the fastest cats to help me carry herbs. In my den. Now!" She bolted off, and Tawnystar quickly ordered, "Tinyspider! Go with her! And…" he paused a moment, scanning the clearing. "Briarpaw."

Briarpaw started. Had Tawnystar really chosen her? But she didn't have time to dwell on it. Leaping to her paws, she hurried over to Mossfoot's den.

She barely had the chance to poke her head in when Mossfoot thrust a bundle of bitter smelling herbs into her jaws, not even glancing up to see who it was.

"How do you know what herbs to bring?" Briarpaw asked, gripping the bundle carefully but firmly in her jaws.

"I didn't, I'm just bringing a little of all the most useful herbs. Now come on, let's go!" Grabbing the last couple leaves, she shot out of the den, Tinyspider and Briarpaw right behind her.

As they sprinted towards Sunspots, a leaf fluttered out of Briarpaw's jaws. She wheeled around, not sure how she would grab it without dropping anything else, but before she had time to decide what to do, a tan muzzle reached down and picked it up. It was Tawnystar.

"I'm coming with you," he called to Mossfoot, hurrying over to her.

"But Tawnystar," she mumbled around the herbs, "The Clan needs someone to stay here with them and keep them calm."

"The senior warriors can do that. He's my deputy. I'm not just leaving him to die." The Clan leader's muzzle was set as he spoke. It would be hard to change his mind, and they didn't have much time.

Mossfoot must've realized this, because she quickly dipped her head to her leader before turning to Sunspots. "Quick- show us the way."

The mottled tom whizzed across the moor, the others pounding after him. Briarpaw took leaping strides, pushing herself as fast as she could go, but it felt like she was moving agonizingly slowly. All the while, Sunspots' words rang in her ears- he's dying. He's dying. He's dying.

No! She quickly pushed the thoughts away. They wouldn't let that happen. Mossfoot was a great medicine cat. She would heal WindClan's deputy before it was too late. He wasn't going to die.

He's not going to die, she repeated inwardly, although she had trouble believing the words.

Why? Why couldn't she believe it? What exactly about thinking about the WindClan deputy gave her a sinking feeling in her chest?

What exactly was wrong with him? Why hadn't Sunspots been able to explain? Did Mossfoot know? Would she still be able to heal him if she didn't?

After running for a while, Briarpaw glanced back to see that Mossfoot had fallen a few strides behind them. Briarpaw wondered if she would be able to keep up, but the medicine cat's stride didn't falter, her face scrunched in grim determination.

As Sunspots veered towards the RiverClan border, Briarpaw felt a pit in her stomach. It seemed like he was leading them towards the Horseplace.

As the sheep flocks came into view, Sunspots slowed down, his fur spiking as he stealthily darted through the grass. Briarpaw wasn't sure what he was so afraid of- the sheep were still a little ways away, but the terror in her eyes made her copy his movements without much hesitation.

Finally, she caught sight of something through the grass- a flash of tan, then gray, then brown. Looking closer, she saw that it was Swiftwing and Hollythorn, slowly dragging a dark gray bundle between them towards the shelter of a small, nearby grove of thin, spindly trees.

It was Thistlevine.

She held back a whimper, instead biting down harder on the herbs. A few bitter juices tricked into her mouth, and she lightened her grip, trying not to swallow them.

Tawnystar hurried forward, touching his nose briefly to his deputy's pelt before helping Swiftwing and Hollythorn to move him, but Mossfoot hurried forward, stopping them. Dropping her herbs, she ordered, "Don't move him, it may make him worse. We'll have to work here."

Swiftwing's eyes were wide. "But what if they… come again?"

"Who?" Tawnystar glanced around furtively.

"The twolegs," Hollythorn whispered, as if she was scared that speaking out loud would draw them back. "The ones with the big, loud sticks."

Tawnystar wrinkled his nose. "Sticks?"

"I don't know," Hollythorn whimpered, "but they did something to Thistlevine. He was chasing a rabbit, but the twolegs saw him, pointed their stick at him, and then there was a loud bang." She shook her head, her ear fur twitching. "It sounded like… like I don't know what, but louder than anything I've ever heard before. I can still hear it ringing in my ears, like it's crawling around inside my head."

"And when we looked at Thistlevine…" Swiftwing added in a quivering voice, "He was lying on the ground."

"You got close to the twolegs?"

"No, Tawnystar," Sunspots murmured, sinking to the ground as he gazed at Thistlevine. "That's the thing- they were all the way on the other side of the field, but they still did something to Thistlevine."

Tawnystar's ears pricked as he gazed towards the Horseplace, an expression in his eyes that Briarpaw had never seen him show before- fear.

Mossfoot glanced down at Thistlevine. "I still think it's best if we don't move him. Maybe some of you should keep a lookout for any twolegs while I treat him."

Hollythorn and Swiftwing nodded, perking their ears up as they scanned the open moor.

"Briarpaw, bring those herbs over to me," Mossfoot called, and Briarpaw crept over to the medicine cat's side, dropping the herbs at her paws. For the first time, Briarpaw saw the deputy up close.

His dark muzzle was contorted in pain, his eyes squeezed shut. His thin body trembled, and his limbs were struck with sharp spasms every now and then. A small, round wound pierced his flesh near his chest, but apart from that, Briarpaw didn't see any other possible causes of pain. Could that tiny wound really be the cause of all his suffering?

Mossfoot seemed perplexed as well. She reached out for a root, then hesitated, uncertainty etched on her face, before reaching out for a leaf. Her movements still seemed irregular was she chewed it up, though.

"Thistlevine?" Tawnystar's voice was soft as he spoke to his deputy, although there was a pained look in his amber eyes.

Thistlevine's eyes flickered, revealing flashes of green. "Tawnystar!" he rasped. "I… I…"

"Don't try to speak, save your strength," he murmured. "Mossfoot will take care of you, don't worry."

"I… I'm…" the tom strained to lift his head, but quickly fell limp again.

Tawnystar froze, nudging him gently with his nose. The tom's chest was still rising and falling, but barely.

Mossfoot was examining his wound more closely, her muzzle taut. "I don't understand," she whispered, so faintly that Briarpaw couldn't be sure that she had even really spoken.

Taking a cobweb, she pressed it over the wound. Thistlevine flinched, and she hesitated for a moment, before pressing more lightly. The plaster quickly grew dark, drops of blood glistening on the silver threads, but although it didn't leak, Thistlevine didn't seem to be in much better condition. His spasms were growing weaker and less frequent, and Briarpaw was unsure if that was a good or a bad thing.

Mossfoot turned back to her herbs and began to sift through them. Almost all of them were tossed aside in a much more rough manner than what was typically exhibited by the WindClan medicine cat. The pile that she placed more carefully next to Thistlevine contained only a few small plants.

Out of the corner of her eye, Briarpaw caught the dark tom's head lolling, his muscles relaxing.

He's passing out, she realized. Some of the tension seemed to be leaving his muzzle, and she felt grateful that he would be able to get a little peace.

"Snap him out of it," Mossfoot barked suddenly, making Briarpaw jump. "He can't lose consciousness, he might never wake up."

Tawnystar, who had been hesitating, sprung forward at her words, placing his paws on Thistlevine and shaking him gently. The tom groaned and slowly opened his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Thistlevine," the leader murmured, "but you have to stay awake. You have to keep your strength."

Thistlevine winced. "It won't help… I don't have any… any…" the words drifted off his tongue as another spasm convulsed his body.

"Hold on a little longer, old friend. Mossfoot will take care of you." His gaze drifted to the medicine cat. She had spread another pulp on the wound, but as the wound was so small, more of it seemed to have gotten in his pelt than on the infected area. His fur was matted and spiked around the area. Frustrated, she lapped it away, not even flinching at the taste.

"I don't understand. I've never seen anything like this before." Her voice went from a growl to a whimper.

"I'm no medicine cat," Briarpaw said quietly, "but surely all this can't be coming from just that tiny wound?"

"Well… it does look pretty deep, but even so, I don't see why he would be having spasms… it's almost as if there's something else… something inside him causing it."

"What do you mean, inside him?"

"I don't know, like a sickness or something… but he doesn't smell sick. And it's not like any sickness I've ever seen before."

"If it was," Tawnystar added, "It would've had to come on pretty suddenly. He didn't show any signs of being unwell before he left on the patrol."

"You're right, but it has to be something else. It's… it's as if something is eating away at him, sapping his strength, from the inside."

"Could… could it have been something he ate, perhaps? Maybe the prey was infected?" Tinyspider suggested.

"We didn't eat anything on the patrol," Hollythorn meowed anxiously.

"You might not have had to," Mossfoot said. "Even just holding infected prey in your jaws could've transmitted the disease."

"He didn't do that either," Swiftwing whimpered, pawing at the ground. "Hollythorn caught a bird, but the rabbit was the first piece of prey Thistlevine hunted, and the twolegs got to him before he could touch it, anyway."

"So if it was prey that was infected," Tinyspider conceded, "it would've had to have been from back at camp."

Swiftwing's fur bristled, and Briarpaw guessed he was thinking about his mate and newborn kits. She realized that he didn't even know that they had been born yet, and that Flickerflame was alright.

"I'm sure that someone would've scented any infected prey," Tawnystar assured him. "Besides, we'll make sure that the pile is safely cleared out- without any contact- after we get back."

Swiftwing's fur flattened slightly, but she could tell he was still tense, and that their leader's words had done little to assure him. She found herself agreeing with him- by the time they got back, it could already be too late. But there was nothing they could do about that now.

"I'm still not sure it was the prey, though," Mossfoot objected. "He was just fine until the twolegs gave him this wound with their… loud sticks. I have the feeling that this has something to do with them."

"You said you thought it was something inside him," Briarpaw said slowly, "and there's a deep hole in his side. Maybe that's how they got it in?"

Mossfoot was nodding. "That's probably right. They… injected him with something. The question is, what?"

"Maybe some sort of poison?" Hollythorn suggested.

"I could try yarrow… we give it to help cats throw up if they've eaten something toxic. I'm not sure if it would work, though. I've never worked with twoleg injuries before, and twoleg things always seem to be… unnecessarily complicated."

"We don't have much of a choice. At least try it."

Mossfoot nodded at Tawnystar before grabbing a spiky green leaf and beginning to chew. "I need you to swallow a herb for me," she told Thistlevine. "It's going to make you sick, don't try to fight it. Hopefully you'll vomit up whatever's doing this to you, and you'll feel much better afterward, ok?"

Thistlevine didn't respond, Briarpaw only knew he had heard as his eyelids twitched and he slowly opened his jaws. It looked like it was costing him an effort to not clench them shut again.

Mossfoot leaned forward and spat the poultice into his mouth.

The tom quickly swallowed, his muzzle wrinkling in pain. For a minute, nothing happened. She could sense all the cats around her holding their breath. Then, suddenly, Thistlevine's chest heaved, and he rolled onto his side as sickly bile was spat out of his mouth. He laid, gasping, before retching again. On the fourth time, nothing came up when he heaved again, and he collapsed to the ground, his body quivering.

Is that it? Is he ok now?

Mossfoot was leaning forward, sniffing his pelt anxiously. She examined the pile of vomit he had left, giving it a sniff, while being careful not to touch it.

"Well?" Tawnystar asked. "What is it?"

"I can't smell anything toxic. Either the scent is being covered up… or maybe it's scentless… or… maybe it didn't work." She glanced at Thistlevine. His gasping breaths were evening out, but it was hard to tell whether he was in a better condition or not.

Frowning, Mossfoot reached out and ran her paw over the wound. She froze, before feeling it again.

"What's wrong?" Tawnystar demanded.

"I… I can't be sure, but I think I can feel something." She paused, running her tongue over her muzzle. "It's like a… a lump."

"Can you get it out?"

"I doubt it. It seems like it's pretty deep, and the wound is far too small to extract it."

"But we have to do something," he demanded. "We can't let him die." He turned, crouching over his deputy, and gave him a quick lick on the ear.

"The only thing I could think of is making the wound bigger, but I still don't think that would work. It's far too deep. And it's risky- it might make him even weaker. If he recovers, I don't know if the wound would ever heal. Wait… I could try…" her words fizzled into indistinguishable mutters that Briarpaw couldn't make out. She turned to her pile of herbs, while Briarpaw watched Tawnystar. He was murmuring to his deputy, the words gently stirring his ear fur.

Suddenly, Thistlevine's jaws parted, and Briarpaw heard him speak in a hoarse whisper. "I… I was honored to serve WindClan…"

"Don't speak like that. You will again. It may take you time to heal, but you can become deputy again. You're loyal and dependable, wise and strong- everything I could ask for in my deputy." His last words came out in a choke.

"Every deputy is different… there are many other traits you will come to value… energy and vigor… enthusiasm and determination… the choice is never a clear one. But you are the leader, you know what's best for our Clan… and what's best for you."

"Stop it. I am not choosing a new deputy. You're my deputy, no one else. No one could be as great as you."

"Under a great leader, they could be. You… you inspired me, Tawnystar. You were young when you became leader, but your determination carried you. You need to believe in others, just as you did in me, and I know you will be fine in the end. WindClan is lucky to have you…" A shudder shook his body, and the tom fell limp, his chest heaving with each breath.

"Mossfoot!" The cry escaped Tawnystar's mouth in a whimper. "Help him, please! He doesn't have much time!"

Sadness and anguish shadowed the medicine cat's face. "Tawnystar, I…"

"Look out!" Hollythorn shrieked. "It's the twolegs- they're back!"

Briarpaw whipped around, and saw two male twolegs standing in the distance, long sticks in their hands. The two dogs that had chased Briarpaw and Smolderpaw the previous day were loping along by their sides, and as one of the twolegs raised a foreleg, pointing, the two dogs shot forward, their noses hovering above the ground as they searched the field. The twolegs were looking around- they hadn't spotted the cats yet, and Briarpaw knew their poor senses would make it difficult, but it was only a matter of time before the dogs tracked them down and led their masters right to them.

"We have to go," Sunspots gasped, "Now."

The rest of the patrol jumped to their paws, and began to hurry towards the trees, but Tawnystar stopped them with a flick of his tail. "Wait! What do you think you're doing? We can't just leave Thistlevine behind!"

The cats froze, glancing at each other anxiously. Sunspots cast his eyes to the ground. "Tawnystar…"

"We can't abandon him!" Tawnystar interjected with an angry flash of his tail. "Is that all your loyalty to him is worth?"

The cats cringed back from him, flinching. Only Mossfoot stepped forward, her pelt sparking with defiance.

"Tawnystar, that's unfair, and you know it. If we stay here with Thistlevine, we'll die. There are too many good cats here- how do you think WindClan is going to cope without a deputy, leader, or medicine cat? We've gone through so much- we're not going to let our Clan fall now. They're depending on us, Tawnystar. It's your job as leader to keep them- and to keep us- safe."

The anger had left their leader's eyes now, and he looked pitiful as he whimpered, "But how can I leave him? I can't bring myself to do that!"

A shadow passed over Mossfoot's face as she replied, "I was with him, Tawnystar, only a moment ago… it's too late, he's gone already. I'm sorry- there's nothing we can do to help him anymore." In a dull whisper, she repeated, "I'm sorry."

Tawnystar's eyes flashed, and he glanced back towards Thistlevine's body. No more spasms seized it, no more jagged gasps of air shook his chest.

He was completely still.

Mossfoot's voice was soft. "Tawnystar?"

Taking a deep breath, the leader shook out his fur and glanced over his shoulder at the limp body one more time.

"Goodbye, old friend," he whispered, before turning to hurry after the rest of the patrol.