Hello! I return from my slumber, and bring with me a one-shot!He dreamed of a sunny day, his clan happily chatting, his deputy organizing patrols; and the occasional fussing of a mother over her kit.
But this wasn't meant to be. A wail from the medicine den awoke him, forcing him back to the present. His clan was dying. An illness claiming his clanmates one by one. The clearing lay mostly empty.
Until a queen stumbled weakly out of the nursery, the still form of a kit in her jaws. He wished Starclan would help him, but was met without an answer.
The leader looked up to see the questioning gaze of a kit, a Molly, Hailkit. He reminded himself.
He coughed violently.
Moons had passed, despite it all, he had tried to maintain what miniscule amount of normality was left. He failed, the clan had collapsed.
He looked to the kit at his side. She should be an apprentice, but no one would cheer, no mother would come to praise her.
This is it, He murmured to himself, It's what we've been waiting for..."Are you ready to join the tribe?" He meowed.
I've never been good at writing long stories, oh well.
