The following weeks only proved to bring more illness to the clan. The first cat to fall sick to it was Spiderfrost. The elder tom had barely survived two days with it before he was taken by StarClan. Only five days later, the other three elders had succumbed to the illness, and had died, unable to be cured. Thistletongue was starting to give some warriors herbs to prevent whatever it this was, although so far, it had just seemed to affect the elderly.
That is, until a young warrior named Needleflower shared their same fate. The same symptoms were wrought upon her, and she had died shortly after coughing up an alarming amount of blood. Soon to follow was the senior warrior Milkypelt, as well as another one, Petaltail. Marblenose's kits had died one by one, and her death had come shortly after.
Other cats were falling ill, showing the same symptoms. Over the days they didn't get better, and with so few healthy cats, prey in the cold weather did not come easy. Thistletongue had his den full of cats, so when Swiftwater began to feel a little tight chested, he had to fight to keep his panic hidden. He didn't think it was the same symptom display as the sickness, but he wasn't sure. He didn't want to bother Thistletongue in his den with his paws already full, but he wanted to fight… Whatever this was off before it got worse.
The hunting patrol didn't go too well. His breath was raspy, and it was hard for him to draw in soft, quiet breaths. He'd pulled himself nearly silent through undergrowth, and when he'd gotten close to the mouse, ready to pounce, the breath he drew in had rattled. The mouse had darted away without a second thought, but he hadn't been quick enough. He fell flat on the ground, a groan leaving his chest as he pried his eyes open.
He could just see the mouse scamper through the bushes, outside the territory, but the telltale squeak showed it had been caught. Swiftwater lifted his head, ears twitching in confusion. His pale yellow gaze narrowed, and he pushed himself to his paws, crouching and picking his way through the bushes. Taking cover, he drew in a breath as a cat stood up, looking around. She was very pretty, Swiftwater noticed, with a soft brown speckled pelt, and sky blue eyes. She set the mouse down briefly, lifting her head and tasting the air.
"I know you're there. You're one of the those pack cats, right?" She spoke, looking over the area, at no place in particular. Swiftwater cursed himself, hesitation heavy in his paws. He glanced over. He could just… Back out, pretend he was never here. "You seem ill, too. I know how to cure illnesses." She insisted, and the black and white tom's ears flattened. His medicine cat knew herbs, too, but he was always so busy now…
Finally, Swiftwater crawled out, shaking the debris out of his pelt as he stood. The she-cat's eyes locked on him, and her whiskers twitched in greeting. She didn't move from where she stood, however, and he wasn't sure why.
"Am I supposed to come over there?" He asked, finally.
"Am I allowed to come into your territory?" She responded, tilting her head inquisitively. So, she wasn't really a rogue… She seemed to respect boundaries.
"Uh… Yeah, sure." He answered, a little dumbly. Mousebrain. You should cross out of yours. He thought, pelt twitching somewhat anxiously as the she-cat ducked her head, picking up the mouse, and trotted lightly over to him. She seemed to maneuver through the territory without hassle, unlike most others not in SnowClan.
"I don't like to cross boundaries without permission." She admitted once she reached him, setting the mouse down. "I mean, I don't think they're really necessary, but I know that's the way you all deal with your different packs."
"Packs?" He echoed, confused. It seemed to click, though, just as she was about to explain, so he spoke first. "O-Oh, the clans. They're called clans." He corrected finally, giving a sure swish of his tail.
"Oh wow, really? We've been calling them packs this whole time." She blinked, genuine curiosity in her eyes.
"We?" The tom echoed, looking around cautiously.
"Yes, my group. We live out beyond your territory." She informed, looking over her shoulder to where she had come from. "A little ways back. We don't hunt on your land, of course, but we have observed you. We're curious." She admitted, training her pretty blue eyes back onto him.
"I… I see. How long have you lived there for?" He asked. She shrugged, nose twitching as she pondered the question.
"Personally, I've lived with them for about two or three moons. I'm not sure how long they've all been there, though." She admitted. Swiftwater swallowed, ears twitching back faintly. There had been cats right outside SnowClan the whole time, and nobody had known? Or, at least, nobody had said anything… "What's your name?" His head lifted more, as did his ears, when she spoke again.
"Swiftwater. Yours?" He responded.
"Fallow." She responded, curling her tail up.
"Fallow…" He mumbled, the name strange on his tongue.
"Yes. A deer." She responded, voice somewhat teasing.
"You're… Not from around here, are you." He confirmed, not a question, but a statement.
"I am generally, yes. My parents weren't, though. They came from far." She waved her tail, glancing out to nowhere in particular. She raised her nose, scenting the air for a few moments, before squinting passed the foliage of the trees. "Oh, mousedung, I better get back. Tavvia will be kitting soon." She commented, bending her head to pick up her mouse. Suddenly, she stopped, though, eyeing Swiftwater. She drew back up, shifting back. "You take it."
"Me?" He blinked in surprise at her proposition, and she only gave a nod.
"It… Really should've been your mouse." She admitted, scuffing a paw on the ground for a moment. "It's not your fault you're sick. I don't know if you clan cats have herbs for illnesses, but they work well. You're showing the signs of something that two of our cats had. Mouse didn't make it, but Flower did. We used some frostmint to help cure it, and the rabbit nose flower to help strengthen her afterwards." She suggested.
Frostmint? Rabbit nose? He'd never heard of any of those. Then again, he wasn't a medicine cat, but he knew some herbs… Like, marigold, and tansy… Yarrot… Or was it yarrow? "Uh… Okay." He responded slowly, tail tip twitching. Fallow's own tail twitched in amusement, and she took a step back.
"Okay, silly. Enjoy that mouse. I'll see you around." She teased, and as she turned, her tail whisked across Swiftwater's nose. Without another word, she bounded through the foliage, out of the territory, and soon, out of sight. For a few moments, he just stood there, struggling to regain composure and breath.
What… Just happened? He swore he would've just thought all of that up, but as he bent his head to pick up the mouse, Fallow's sweet scent lingered in his nostrils and bathed his tongue. Wow… She sure was something… And educated! She knew about herbs, and how to hunt. I'm sure she can fight too. She'd be a great asset to the clan. He thought, distracted as he trudged back to camp. He had to stop and set down the mouse briefly as he became winded from the trek, hardly able to breath through his nose.
Foxdung… I am getting the illness… I can't let this happen. I need to help my clan. He shook his head, focusing back as he picked up the mouse and hurried back. He slipped into the camp, his pawsteps slowing as he saw a body laid out in the middle of camp. Striped tabby orange fur and white markings revealed Nimblefoot, unmoving. Swiftwater's shoulders sagged, and continued on, setting the mouse down in the pile, before trotting back over.
"When did she…?" He started, coming up besides his littermate, Cloudnettle. She turned to him, her golden eyes heavy with defeat, much like her posture.
"While the patrol was out. Where are the others?" She asked, looking around. Swiftwater opened his jaws to reply, but closed them, his ears starting to burn. I can't believe I forgot about the others on the patrol! He cursed himself, fur prickling faintly as he lowered his head.
"U-Uh… They're…" He turned his head as the rest of the patrol burst into camp. Beechnose came in first, a thrush clamped in his jaws. Following was Mapleflight, a small vole in her own. The two spotted Swiftwater, their ears perking as they made their way over.
"What happened?" Beechnose asked as he set his bird down, confusion evident. Swiftwater could tell the sandy orange tom was a little irate as well.
"I… Honestly, I forgot." The black and white tom meekly replied, dipping his head. He sniffed slightly, and Mapleflight frowned, setting her own prey down.
"Please go see Thistletongue. You could stop this illness before it gets worse. I can tell you're struggling, Swiftwater, don't hide it." She pressed as the tom made to argue, but closed his jaws. The two then looked at Nimblefoot's body, bowing their heads. "I didn't know she was so bad off." The amber and orange she-cat murmured, a somber note taking over her voice. Swiftwater looked away, pushing past them all. He didn't want to think the same thing could happen to him.
Pushing into the medicine den, he was swamped with the stench of illness and herbs. The sound of cats coughing and wheezing was taking over the normally quiet den, and Swiftwater sought Thistletongue. "Oh, no, not you too." He heard the tom meow, and saw him trot out from the shadows. The medicine cat looked worn and tired, his fur ungroomed, eyes heavy as his tail.
"Yeah… I know." Swiftwater mumbled, shoulders dropping as he sniffled, coughing shortly afterwards. "Do you have… Uh… Some frostmint?" He asked, managing to recall one of the names. Thistletongue's ears twitched, as did his nose.
"Frostmint? No, I don't." He responded, slightly confused, and concerned.
"U-Uh… Okay… Rabbit nose?" He tried. The medicine cat's eyes narrowed, his tail giving a slow, low lash.
"Where did you hear these names?" He asked suspiciously, amber eyes boring into Swiftwater's own yellow ones. The black and white warrior swallowed, shifting a half step back. If he came out and said a rogue told him that, Thistletongue may think that he was really ill for listening to someone like that. He'd probably be confined in camp, with all the other sick cats, and he'd only grow worse.
Maybe I was a mousebrain for listening to her… But, she seemed so genuine. He thought, eyes dwindling down to search the ground. "Um… I don't know. I thought those were herbs." He finally answered, dragging his gaze but up to meet the brown tom's. Thistletongue narrowed his eyes once again, watching Swiftwater with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Mm… Maybe you were thinking of catmint." He finally deciphered. Swiftwater could tell he didn't believe him, but held his tongue as the tabby tom turned to sift through some herbs. "Here." He dropped a couple leaves at his paws, and Swiftwater bent his head obediently, lapping them up. He stifled a gag as Thistletongue spoke. "There's not a whole lot of room in here. I'd rather you sleep in the warriors' den- Away from the other cats. You'll be lucky if we caught the cold in time." His nose twitched again. "Grab a bite and rest for the day. Save your strength for tomorrow. The clan needs as many paws as it can get." He dismissed Swiftwater with a twitch of his ears, and the warrior stood after passing his tongue several times over his jaws.
"Thanks." He grunted, turning and slipping from the den. Absentmindedly, he watched as Nimblefoot's body was carried out by young warriors. His heart ached to see the sight, and he looked away. There wasn't even a proper vigil. Swallowing tight-throat, he couldn't find himself hungry enough to eat, so he just slipped away into the warriors' den.