Chapter 1

Leaffall winds whistled through the twisted forest, shaking the clinging leaves while sending some others cascading to the ground. Instead of the usual vibrant green leaves, vines and grasses, the whole forest was splashed with orange; the leaves were the color of a ginger pelt, slowly fading to a muddy brown; the thick trunks of the willow trees, once a luscious chocolate shade, now paling to a grey with the slight frost; the thick hanging vines, which served as climbing assistance and a surprisingly comfy perch for a nap or stakeout, were now brittle and frost-covered, definitely not strong enough to hold a cat's weight.

A sudden gale passed through the brush and trees surrounding StormClan camp, cutting through the coats of the cats on guard by the mossy rock entrance.

Breezefur shivered lightly and fluffed out her cream tabby pelt, the mossy rocks towering behind her provided no shelter whatsoever but further exposed her to the wind. She worked her claws into the brittle frosted grass, fidgeting, muscles tensed and tail twitching subconsciously. She longed to be in the thick bramble bush that was the warriors' den, settling into the fluffy moss and thistledown for a much needed rest.

Another gust of painfully cold wind sliced through her short fur, causing Breezefur to shrink back against the rock, only to jump away from it as it was just as cold, if not colder, than the wind. Decaying leaves and ground litter was being flung at the cats as they stood exposed against the large pile of boulders.

An annoyed grunt sounded from besides her and she turns her head to Waspstripe, who was also on night guard. He was being battered by leaf litter as it flew into his eyes, nose and mouth and soiled his vibrant red tabby pelt with dirt particles.

"Great StarClan, if this goes on any longer we'll be flying like thrushes!" his tone was surprisingly light and playful as he coughed out the grit and soil, harshly grooming the dirt out of his fur only to recoil at the dry grimy dry taste.

Leaffall was hard for StormClan this season. Prey was scarce. The mouse holes underneath the roots of trees were all empty, the vole burrows besides the rivers flowing with ice were deserted, even the birds' nests in the treetops of the sagging willows were vacant. The frost and ice had arrived early this Leaffall and thin sheets of ice were beginning to show up on the surfaces of the rivers, making it difficult to catch fish.

StarClan help us . . .

She snapped her eyes shut when another shower of dirt flew onto her face, ducking her head slightly to avoid the grit entering her nostrils, to no avail. The brown particles left a burning sensation in her nostrils, making her sniffle and cough in an attempt to clear herself of the dry muck. In desperation she rubbed her paw against her, now sticky with mucus, nose.

A sudden rustle in the bushes startled Breezefur, making her jump in fright. Her pelt stood on end and her eyes focused hard on the area she had seen the bushes shake. Waspstripe seemed to have heard it too as he too was on his paws, claws slightly extended, tail bushed out to twice his size, eyes wide. He looked like a scared rabbit that had rolled in crushed berries. A roll of amusement bubbled at the back of Breezefur's throat and she struggled to control the urge to open her jaws and yowl with laughter, but she kept silent and focused on the large shrub which had now began to quiver again.

Her muscles tensed in preparation to leap onto whatever fox or dog could be looking to make an easy meal of a cat or steal from the dwindling freshkill pile. Staying stock still, she watches as whatever creature comes barging through the leaves. Relief washes over her as she sees the familiar pelts of Flightfur and her apprentice, Beepaw. Waspstripe's muscles relax and his blue eyes go wide and adoring, he leaps over to Flightfur and nuzzles into her neck fur.

Flightfur, though tired and frustrated looking, drops the scrawny crow she was carrying and let out a purr as she received her mate's welcome. Breezefur too relaxed and shook out her tense paws, going over to the pale ginger warrior and her apprentice to inquire about the situation of the prey running in the territory. She just opened her jaws to speak when another rustle sounds from the bush Flightfur and Beepaw just crashed through, thinking it to be another clanmate she pads forward to try and catch a whiff of whoever it could be.

An all too familiar scent is present on the leaves, the scent of her leader, Falconstar.

The powerful tom came tramping through the brush, his broad shoulders easily parted the flimsy leaves and branches as he came forth. He shook the dead leaves off of his silver tabby pelt and turned his sky colored gaze on her.

"Did anything happen while I was gone?" he asked, flicking his ears to throw off the remaining bits of decaying leaf. Breezefur waved her tail towards the rock entrance to her camp.

"Not really. I just froze my fur off here waiting for you to come back"

The tabby tom let out an amused huff and padded past her the direction of camp entrance, gently brushing his tail against her side.

"You'll be fine" he said as he disappeared behind the mossy rocks. She quickly followed behind him, glad to finally get a break from the frigid night air. The dawn had already begun to turn the tops of the trees to flame and cast long shadows of the remaining cats in the clearing along the ground. The dawn patrol will be heading out soon.

As she strode over to the warriors' den bush, another cat slid out of the small entrance. It was Blueshine, she nodded to the brown and white tom as they passed each other by.

Stepping over the sleeping bodies of her fellow warriors, she sank into her nest of spongy moss and fluffy thistledown. She let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes, curling into herself to keep the warmth from escaping her body.

Her breathing deepened and her heartbeat slowed, pooling a sense of calm into her mind as she prepared for slumber . . .

But it didn't come.

For what felt like several moons she rolled around in her nest, catching little clouds of thistledown and swatches of moss in her pelt. The slumbering cats began to yawn and exit the den. Sitting up in her nest she let out a frustrated sigh and dug her claws into the moss; her muscles ached with cold and stiffness from standing guard since moonhigh, she was struggling to and just barely managed to keep her eyelids from closing over her sage green eyes. Why couldn't she just go to sleep?

Desperate, she flopped back down into the nest and slapped her tail across her muzzle, squeezing her eyes shut in hopes of catching some sleep. Several moments went by before she rolled onto her back, splayed her legs and growled angrily. What in StarClan is going on with me? Why can't I sleep?

She heard a slight noise from the back of the den and rolled back onto her paws to glance at the seemingly vacant nests near the back wall resting against a solid rock swathed in lichen. An alarmed looking Applefawn looked back at her with wide moss-colored eyes, her ringed ginger tabby pelt ever so slightly spiked along her shoulders.

"Are you okay?" she mewed, padding up to give her pelt a tentative sniff, the dusty white ribbon she had embedded in her thick fur slightly brushed her nose, making her let out a sneeze, accidentally startling the small tabby. She jumped back, eyeing her with concern.

"You should see Mosseye, it could be whitecough" she mewed before stepping out of the warriors' den. As soon as the petite she-cat left her alone she felt a sudden weight slam into her skull, her head pulsed with heat and her throat felt as if it was on fire. She just wanted to collapse back down into the moss and drift away – that probably wouldn't work given the two previous attempts. Maybe Applefawn is right?

On tired paws she stumbled out of the bush, squinting against the blaring pain in her forehead. The few warriors still in the clearing cast odd looks her way before turning back to each other but Breezefur didn't care; she needed to see Mosseye.

The shelter of the tumbled rock entrance was a welcome relief from the buffeting winds. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, the faint shape of a cat in the corner of the den by a small pool of crystal water shrouded in ferns. The medicine cat, Mosseye, crouched by the pool sweeping herbs across the smooth dirt floor with a white paw, her tabby tail swishing idly from side to side.

"Breezefur?" her rumbling mew greeted Breezefur's ears as the old medicine cat turned her head to face her. She may have noticed her wary state and immediately walks up and pressed her paw to her forehead, quickly removing her paw from the surface.

"Great StarClan, you're burning!" the alarm in the medicine cat's voice put her on edge, she'd only seen her like this when Fringepaw caught greencough as a kit. Before Applefawn mentioned possibly being sick she had been just fine, now she felt as if a whole clan of kits were play fighting inside of it and on top of that, exhausted to the point of collapse. Maybe there is something wrong.