A/N: Yeah...so here I am. :3 Sorry again. *looks sheepish*

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Robinpaw: I updated! Only probably not as soon as you liked. Thanks for the review. :P

Chapter 20: Cough

Seven sunrises after Tigerpaw begins to cough, three more cats catch whitecough: Ravenwing, Branchstar, and Petalpaw.

Fear spreads through LeafClan like a wildfire: Who will be next? Who will live? Who will die? I remember Oakpelt, dead from a dog only a moon ago.

I pitch in, helping Whispersong and Swallowpelt treat the sick cats whenever I can. It's the least I can do. I put damp moss on their foreheads, give them poppy seeds when the coughing gets very fierce, and pace around nervously.

I do not tell them that everything will be okay.

Whispersong pokes her head out of the medicine cat's den. "Amberpaw? Come here for a moment," she says. I look up from where I've been grooming my whiskers and trot over.

"Yes?"

"We're low on chickweed," she says. "Can you go find some?"

I hesitate. I want to help, but I also want to get more training in. What if the other Clans decide to attack? "What about Falconflight—"

"I already spoke to him," she says briskly. "Now, go." She turns tail and disappears back into the medicine cat's den.

I shake my head in exasperation and head through the bramble-covered entrance of our camp. It snowed again; snow piles up on otherwise bare tree branches, and frost spirals up oak trunks. The white stuff masks my pawsteps as I hurry, wishing to get back to camp as soon as possible, back to other cats, back to Tigerpaw. This time, I do not appreciate the snow.

My breath comes out in puffy white clouds. The cold bites a little at my pelt, but I hardly notice it on my quest to find chickweed, and the discomfort soon goes away.

Try as I might, I cannot spot any chickweed for my life—for other lives. I do come across a bunch of dried up coltsfoot, though, and I pick these up and bring them to Whispersong.

"I couldn't find any chickweed," I say to the gray she-cat after I've dropped the coltsfoot at her feet.

She sighs. "Thank you anyway, Amberpaw." She takes the coltsfoot in her jaws and disappears to put it with the rest of the herbs. Meanwhile, I go visit the sick cats.

I pause by Petalpaw, Branchstar, and Ravenwing, trickling moisture from a ball of moss into their mouths. Swallowpelt nods approvingly at me from her station next to them. I save Tigerpaw for last, who's lying in a second hollow in the corner by the small frozen pool where the water comes from: there's a jagged hole in the middle where Swallowpelt smashes it so that we can get to the water below. He's so close to the pool that it will take him only a few steps to get to the edge, but Whispersong has forbidden any direct drinking from it for fear that it might get contaminated. He doesn't complain, but I feel sorry for him—whenever he gets thirsty, he has to wait for someone to bring him water, while a pool sits tauntingly close by.

"You awake?"

He cracks open an eye. "Just barely," he says, with a period of coughs at the end. His gaze lights up when he sees the wet moss in my mouth.

I sit down and bend forward; he opens his jaws and I bite down on the moss, spraying water onto his tongue. After a decent amount has gone into him, he closes his mouth, and I fill the moss again from the pool. He shakes his head when I look over at him questioningly, wondering if he wants more water, and I set the sopping clump down on a large leaf next to the pool.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, walking back to sit in front of him. This has become sort of a joke between us: we both know the real answer already.

"Oh, just fantastic," he says, managing to smile before two more coughs blast out of him. "I just may go hunting tomorrow."

"Only if you behave well today."

"Yes, I will," he says, and then we fall silent.

"I guess I'd better go," I finally say. But there is no answer. He's fallen asleep. Curled up in his nest, eyes closed, he appears almost healthy, almost fine. Then he coughs again, so violently I'm surprised he doesn't wake up, and the peaceful image is shattered.

"Have a good sleep," I say quietly, even though I know he can't hear me anymore, and pad out of the medicine cat's den.

"Try again! You almost had it."

I nod at Falconflight and bunch my muscles again, staring up at the delicious-looking squirrel in the tree in front of me. After I left Tigerpaw, I went to go find Falconflight, and now I'm training and hunting at the same time. I'm working on jumping, and if I'm successful, LeafClan will have something else in the fresh-kill pile.

I start running and launch into a jump. The squirrel glances up, frightened, and then—

And then I'm on the ground, warm fur under my paws.

"Wonderful job, Amberpaw!" says Falconflight in approbation. I beam, and he waves his tail in pleasure.

I bury the dead squirrel in a pile of snow—the ground is too hard for a quick hole—and follow my mentor to a place several fox-lengths away.

"Do you hear anything?"

I wait several moments, tilting my head from side to side. "No."

"Do you see anything?"

I look up, scanning the trees. They stand tall and mighty, stark snow-laden branches spread out in front of a gray sky. There's nothing of interest, except for a bird in a tree, and that dropped nut on the ground—oh, wait. "There's a thrush in that beech!" I exclaim.

Falconflight nods. "Nice observation. Do you think you can jump that high?"

The beech is much higher than the last tree. I move backward a couple paces, squinting up at the bird and tilting my head back so much my neck cracks. What I say could be the difference between a successful catch and humiliation. "No," I finally admit.

"So what do you think we should do?"

I mentally roll my eyes, getting fed up with all his questions. I know it's to help me learn, though. A pile of snow falls to the ground while I'm thinking, and the thrush, startled, flies to the tree next over. The beech it lands on is as tall as the oak it just left, so jumping for the bird is still out of the question. But I start to get an idea…

"I have it!"

"Yes, yes?"

"You can climb up in that oak, and I'll leap up and scare the thrush. It'll fly to the tree it left and right into your paws!"

I'm so excited that I'm bouncing on my paws, and when I notice, I don't stop.

He cocks his head to the side, considering it. "That's not a bad idea. Want to give it a try?"

"Ready when you are."

Falconflight turns and races up the shaft of the oak, disappearing as he climbs higher and higher. A few moments pass before he pokes his head from behind the trunk and nods at me to go.

I nod back and position myself in front of the beech, tightening my muscles in preparation.

One…two…three…

"Aaargh!" I screech, launching off the ground and up into the sky. The thrush is gone before I can even blink, streaking off the branch in a flurry of brown feathers. I land onto a tree limb some tail-lengths below the bird's branch, sending a whole shower of snow cascading onto the forest floor.

"Amberpaw!"

I look down. Falconflight's looking up at me, grinning. A dead thrush lies at his feet. "We did it! You did it!"

"Yes!" I shout, letting out my exhilaration in one word and probably scaring all the other prey within hearing distance back into their nests. I wince. Oops.

"Come down so we can go back to camp and tell everybody," Falconflight is saying.

I dip my head in assent and crawl off my branch and onto the trunk. I sink my front paws into the wood and step by step, climb down.

If only the rest of life could be as easy.

"Put those in the fresh-kill pile, and then you can do whatever you like," Falconflight says to me when we enter camp. I finally made it to the ground, with my mentor coaching me all the way. "You did an excellent job today."

"Thank you," I say, and deposit the squirrel and the thrush in the fresh-kill pile. The dark gray tabby tom smiles at me and walks off, presumably to organize a patrol or something. I hear him tell Brightsky how well I did in my training session, and can't keep a grin from my face. Brightsky needs the good news, too. The past few days must have been terrible for her, what with two of her kits sick with whitecough.

Ashpaw is changing Treefall's and Mousetail's moss when I peek into the elders' den, and Graypaw is picking off their ticks. Seeing I'm not needed here, I say a quick hello before leaving. Outside the den, I lean back, breathing in air that doesn't smell like mouse bile, and decide to bring the sick cats fresh-kill.

I pick up the squirrel I caught and a mouse. Ravenwing declines the prey, claiming that she's already eaten, and Branchstar is fast asleep. Petalpaw gratefully takes the brown rodent. She is alternatively coughing and eating when I leave to give the squirrel to Tigerpaw.

He's awake when I come in. Tigerpaw doesn't seem excited at the sight of the fresh-kill, not even when I plop it down right in front of his nose and push it closer enticingly.

"Have you eaten anything this sunrise?" he asks.

I twitch my whiskers in surprise at his question. "Well…" I think, trying to recall if I did, but my stomach quickly answers for me.

Tigerpaw chuckles when it finishes growling. "So"—he stops to cough—"I guess that's a no."

My ears warm. "Just eat the squirrel already."

"Not unless you share it with me," he says.

"I'm not hungry—" I begin, and then break off in defeat as my stomach screams out in opposition. "Okay. Fine. I'll have a couple bites."

He fixes me with a steely stare and coughs. "You're going to have half of it," he says.

"All right, all right." I settle down into the nest next to him.

"You eat your fill, and then give it to me so that you don't catch whitecough."

I nod and begin, tearing and chewing in quick little movements. He doesn't seem to notice when I pass it to him having only consumed two-fifths of it. I yawn when he finishes, growing sleepy.

"Why don't you take a rest?" Tigerpaw suggests. He coughs.

"Hmm?" It is a good idea. "I suppose I could for a few moments…" I curl up, wrapping my tail under my chin.

"Sleep tight," I hear him whisper as I drift off.

It feels like hardly any time has passed when I awake to the sound of Whispersong shouting.

"What are you doing?"

I yawn. "Well, I was sleeping…"

"Yes! Next to a patient who has whitecough! You know, I really appreciate your help, but didn't you think that if you caught the sickness, it would burden me even more?"

"Oh. Sorry."

Whispersong huffs. "Sorry, you say. Don't let me see you in here again. Go sleep in your own nest." She turns on Tigerpaw next. "And you! Why didn't you tell her to get out?"

Tigerpaw is wide-eyed, his ears laid back in fear. "Um…I…"

"Apprentices," Whispersong mutters before the tabby tom can formulate a full sentence, and stomps off.

I let out a laugh as soon as I'm sure she can't hear us anymore. "She overreacted, don't you think?"

To my surprise, he says, between coughs, "Actually, she's right. You shouldn't be here so much."

"What?"

"If you catch whitecough, it'll make her work harder. So…" He pauses to cough, staring at his paws, but continues again, his voice steady. "So I don't think you should come in here again until the whitecough epidemic is over."

I can hardly believe what he's saying. He looks sure of his words, while I am torn between yelling at him and slinking out of the den because I know he's right. I settle on "You can't stop me from visiting and helping out."

Green meets amber as he lifts his eyes from the floor. "No. But I won't be happy about it."

We stare at each other for several long seconds. Finally I break the gaze.

"Fine. As you wish, leader," I say, spitting out the words like a viper would with its deadly venom.

As I turn around and storm out, I hear him break into a new bout of coughing.

I am so mad that I don't watch where I'm going. I slam into a striped gray side and fall back, nearly crashing into an empty nest and wrecking it. "Oh. Sorry. Hi, Falconflight," I say, embarrassed.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" he asks in an amused tone.

"Just to see Mousetail," I lie, thinking quickly.

"You'll have to wait, then," another cat says. I turn to look at him. Branchstar continues, "Falconflight was just telling me how well you did today."

"I think I did okay," I say shyly.

"Well, I hope you'll do okay on this assignment I have for you," Branchstar says. "I want you to deliver a message to Ripplestar." He pauses to cough. "I've decided that with whitecough going around, we can no longer spare any fresh-kill for CreekClan. If we catch her cats on our territory again, they will not go unpunished."

Pleasant surprise floods through me, tinged with a flash of apprehension. "Are you sure you want to pick me to go?" What if I fail?

"You seem like a good apprentice," Branchstar says. "You'll do fine. If you're scared, just get in, tell Ripplestar, and get out."

I dip my head in assent. "Yes, Branchstar. I will do my best."

Smiling, I slip out of the medicine cat's den and leave the camp. Humph. Want me to avoid the medicine cat's den, do you, Tigerpaw? The border is steadily appearing in the distance as I walk stiffly across LeafClan territory, still miffed about being "barred" from the medicine cat's den by Tigerpaw. I know it's for my own good, but I am quite annoyed by it. Part of my irritation comes from the fact that mouse-dung, he's right. But if no cats went near sick ones, the position of medicine cat wouldn't even exist. I was just trying to help!

Just get in, tell the CreekClan leader about Branchstar's decision, and get back out, I think to myself when tendrils of fear start to creep in. Yes. I can do that.

Wind skirls through the air, tugging at my fur, bringing a blast of icy coldness, but I hardly feel it. There aren't any patrols around, but I hold no belief that I'll be able to march into the CreekClan camp unseen. Sure enough, within a few minutes of stepping onto their territory, a patrol materializes into sight.

"Amberpaw?" meows Splashfoot, her whiskers twitching in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

I shove away my annoyance at Tigerpaw—I must be composed—and give her a small smile, knowing that she'll most likely respond differently to me once the news is known to everyone. "I have something to say to Ripplestar," I answer.

"I'll take you to the camp, then," Splashfoot says, ignoring the displeased comments from her Clanmates. "Wavestorm, Minnowpaw, and Leopardleap, finish marking the border while I'm gone, please."

We walk without talking, the silence between us almost substantial. The tortoiseshell she-cat gives me questioning glances as we travel, but I don't interact with her any more than turning right when she turns right and slowing down when she slows down. She's got to be wondering what the StarClan my message is, but at the same time, she must be thinking that I've got something to hide that she doesn't like.

That's what I would feel like if I were in her place, anyway.

Soon I hear a rumbling. I look up, thinking there's a storm coming, but the sky is as clear as it can be in leafbare.

"That's the creek," Splashfoot explains.

I nod in response this time, but can't keep a gasp from escaping when I see the namesake of CreekClan. It's frozen in place, the roaring and tumbling stopped, the waves splashing heavily—and permanently, until the ice melts—against the riverbank as if it's straining to get out of its landlocked prison. Still, some of the water shifts underneath the ice, like it's trying to escape. I see bubbles of air, and then a flash of fins as some fish goes by. This is why the CreekClan cats were so hungry, they'd explained after Branchstar agreed to let them eat prey from our territory. The ice was so thick and solid that they could hardly crack it, and with most of their main fresh-kill gone, they began to starve.

I don't know how deep the creek, but I am sure that if I go in there, the water will close well over my head. I can't imagine surviving for three minutes in there. My eyes must be as wide as Firemonsters.

"How do you swim in that?"

"Oh, just practice," says Splashfoot breezily. "I would tell you more, but…"

"Yeah," I say, understanding immediately, and we continue without speaking. CreekClan territory is wet and marshy, with little of the many trees that cover LeafClan, and with every step I take, there's a squelching sound that makes me wince. There's some silence when we pad across patches of mud that have turned as hard as stones because of the cold, thankfully.

The tortoiseshell she-cat beside me moves with grace, picking up her paws and putting them down softly, hardly making any sounds at all. Her ribs can be seen just a bit under her multi-colored coat. And once I'm back in my own camp and some more time passes, her ribs will be more prominent. I shove my guilt away. I think of the Gathering, and hope Ripplestar isn't in the practice of killing the messenger.

"Splashfoot?" A white she-cat looks up from where she's grooming her paws as we enter the CreekClan camp. I shrink back behind my escort, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, but out of the corner of my eye, I can see several other cats, a small percentage of them vaguely familiar, look up in interest of the visitor. "Who's this?"

"Her name is Amberpaw, from LeafClan," Splashfoot says. "She's here to take a message to Ripplestar."

"From Branchstar," I add.

"Nice to meet you, Amberpaw. I'm Blizzardfire," says the new she-cat in a welcoming tone.

I dip my head. "The same to you, Blizzardfire." Though, inside I'm thinking, She may not think it's so nice anymore when she finds out what the message is.

"What's a LeafClan apprentice doing in my camp?" The voice rings out haughtily, the voice of someone who obviously thinks she's all that. It's familiar, too.

"I have a message for you from Branchstar," I mew to Ripplestar, holding my head up high.

"Oh?" The black-striped she-cat sniffs, flicking her tail derisively. "So he's sending apprentices to do his work now, is he? Come into my den, then. But be warned that if you try anything, there will be witnesses right outside."

With one more glance at Splashfoot, I follow the CreekClan leader into her den. It appears comfortable, with a large nest filled with moss and goose feathers. That must be Ripplestar's. A half-eaten trout lies on the floor—of course she would have a fish, she's the leader, so she gets food first after the elders, queens, and kits—and there's a small hollow in the back with water in it. Another nest, smaller and considerably less snug-looking, sits by the wall perhaps two or three tail-lengths away from Ripplestar's nest.

Ripplestar nods at the second nest. "You may sit."

I eye her for a couple moments, waiting to see if she's going to sit down too. When she doesn't move, I shake my head. "No thank you, I'd rather stand."

I get the feeling she's displeased, but it vanishes from my mind when Ripplestar asks, "Well, what's the message?"

I take a deep breath. Get in, say what you have to say, and get out. "Branchstar wishes for you to know that your cats can no longer hunt on LeafClan territory. If CreekClan cats are seen on our land again, they will be severely punished." I am pleased that my voice doesn't even tremble one time.

Now is the part where she will acknowledge the information and send me scampering back to my own camp. Instead, she says, "Pardon me?" in a manner that tells me she heard it the first time, but can't believe it.

"CreekClan cats can no longer hunt on LeafClan territory. There will be great punishment if your cats are caught on our ground," I repeat, shoving back a smarmy reply. This is Ripplestar, another Clan leader, I remind myself, not Cloudpaw.

"No." Ripplestar shakes her head. "Would you mind telling Branchstar that we need the fresh-kill?" She smiles at me, but it's more like a snarl, a grimace—her lips are pulled back and her teeth are just barely seen, glinting and sharp.

"Actually, I don't think there's any room for argument," I say as politely as I can. "We need the fresh-kill too."

"And why is that?"

"First, it's leafbare, and second…" I hesitate, before reassuring myself that I'll need to tell her this so that she can accept Branchstar's decision. "Second, we have an outbreak of whitecough in our Clan."

The white-and-black leader leaps backward, startling me. I barely keep back a laugh. "Are you contaminated?"

"No, I'm fine," I reply dryly. "I wasn't coughing at all, if you noticed. May I go now?"

Ripplestar looks thoughtful, her fur beginning to smooth. "Hmm…" She sweeps her gaze over me, making my pelt prickle in discomfort. "Yes, I suppose you will. Just tell Branchstar"—and again, she does that creepy half-smile, half-snarl—"that we won't forget this."

I nod mutely, and then zoom out of her den and out of the CreekClan camp before Splashfoot or Blizzardfire can ask me what the message was. They'll hear it soon enough. I do think I hear a cat calling after me, shouting that I need an escort back to my territory, but I don't pause long enough for anyone to catch up for me.

Perhaps if I had waited longer, I would have seen Ripplestar's dark, calculating expression as she finally sat down in her nest so that she could plan something in comfort.