Hello! This here is my second LightClan challenge, about two cats who are the best of friends, but are falling out due to a conflict. Enjoy!

Bright sunlight shone through the brambles of the den, creating dappled shadows on the stone floor. A gentle breeze whistled through the air, as Flightfeather blinked open her deep blue eyes, and yawned. What a beautiful morning it would be, she thought wistfully. If half of the camp weren't sick with greencough.

Flightfeather was one of the lucky cats. Of course, lucky would depend on your perspective. In her eyes, being one of the few cats with the responsibility of hunting twenty-four seven, constantly worrying about the well-being of others and having to avoid her sick loved ones, she wasn't sure which cats had the better deal. Not yet ready to face the day, she closed her eyes, trying to fall back into the bliss of sleep.

"Get up, Flightfeather! What are you, a dormouse?"

Flightfeather rolled her eyes.

"I am up, Stonefall."

"Yes, for the fact your eyes were closed and a snoring sound was coming from your throat is great evidence to back up your claim," he said sarcastically.

"Whatever. Hunting patrol?" Flightfeather asked, licking down a tuft of white-splashed fur.

"Yeah. Bring your apprentice. We leave as soon as the cats start moaning about empty stomachs. Well actually, since greencough usually makes a cat lose his appetite, then we should be good for-"

"Stonefall."

"Fine. Let's go."

Even with just Flightfeather, Stonefall, and their apprentices, they made an impressive catch; for leaf-bare anyway. As Flightfeather entered the camp, she stopped dead, causing Stonefall to bump into her. "Flightfeather, seriously, did you freeze your paws or someth-" Stonefall began, but the light gray tom broke off when he followed her gaze. A ginger form lay slumped in the center of camp, its ribs showing from the ravages of greencough, and its fur crumpled. Its eyes were glazed over, obviously dead.

"Tawnymask," Stonefall finally choked out. "But. . . how-"

"Tawnymask was sick?" Pouncepaw, Stonefall's apprentice piped up, echoing Flightfeather's thoughts.

"I had no idea," the brown-and-white she-cat breathed.

"Who'll be deputy now?" Newtpaw, Flightfeather's apprentice, wondered.

"We'll find out soon enough. But now, I think we have respects to pay to Tawnymask." Setting their prey on the fresh-kill pile, Flightfeather turned to pad to the dead deputy, when someone behind her shrieked, "Stop!"

Pausing, she turned to see Voletuft, the medicine cat, his pelt fluffed up and his eyes wide. Becoming self-conscious that half the camp's attention was on him, he scrambled on the Highrock, cleared his throat, and announced, "Umm. . . Please, nobody touch the deputy, or any other cats we may need to have a vigil for."

The cats glanced uncertainly at each other upon hearing the latter.

"I would like to prevent the spread of disease as much as possible, and my apprentice and I will carefully bury the deputy. On that note, I, uh, want everyone to stay away from the sick cats," Voletuft continued. He turned, about to conclude the meeting, when a cat called out, "Who will be deputy now?"

Voletuft's neck fur bristled uncomfortably. "I- I'm not sure, but I think Oakstar will decide soon, since with his current condition, I don't know how long he'll-" he broke off suddenly, his eyes growing wide. "Nothing! I mean, meeting dismissed!" With that, he bolted off the Highrock and into Oakstar's den, where raspy coughing could be heard.

The Clan shared dubious glances with each other, before the clearing finally emptied, and twilight fell.

Flightfeather woke in the night, glancing around, confused, trying to remember what rose her. Suddenly, a low wailing came from the leader's den. Heart pounding, Flightfeather got to her paws, and careful not to step on any tails, made her way out of the warrior's den, and peered under the Highrock. She withheld a gasp at what met her eyes.

Oakstar sagged over, his sides still, as Voletuft hunched over him. Spotting Flightfeather, the medicine cat didn't even start. He just gazed at her, his eyes full of sadness.

"Voletuft. . ." Flightfeather began. "I-"

"Don't apologize, Flightfeather," he told her, defeated. "He was on his last life. Greencough just kept stripping away his lives, one by one."

"But. . . What will the Clan do? What will you tell them?"

"I will visit the Moonstone in three days. I'm hoping, by then, StarClan will have made the new leader clear, and perhaps ThunderClan with finally be free from this disease. Please, go back to your den, and don't tell anyone of this yet. That shouldn't be how the news is spread. I will prepare Oakstar's body for vigil, then call a meeting."

He sounded so crushed, Flightfeather didn't even try arguing. Dipping her head, she padded back to the warrior's den, her tail dragging in the dust.

The day after Voletuft told the Clan the horrible news, and they day before he was to head to the Moonstone, gossip was spreading around the camp like a wildfire. Of course they were upset Oakstar had passed, but not knowing who the next leader or deputy would be brought up plenty of speculations. But there were two most popular choices: Flightfeather and Stonefall, and they new it.

Flightfeather had pondered this one night, about whomever StarClan chose out of her and Stonefall, which cat would lead the Clan to a better future. Stonefall, with his sense of humor, could certainly get the Clan's spirit's up, and he spoke from his heart. But his flaws are what Flightfeather preferred to focus on.

She, however, was responsible. She contemplated every path before she made a decision, and she always put a brave face on in public. She never looked back on her choices, and carefully considered everyone's opinion. She was obviously the better decision, in her point of view. Stonefall, however, had different ideas. Wincing, Flightfeather recalled the event that had happened yesterday.

The both had padded to the fresh-kill pile, both in the mood for squirrel. They had unintentionally reached for the same prey, and looked at each other awkwardly at first, but neither refused to step down.

"Flightfeather," Stonefall had said, trying to seem like he didn't really care about the outcome of the situation. "I think your paw slipped and you grabbed the wrong prey."

"Funny, I was just about to tell you the same thing," she snapped back, gritting her teeth.

Stonefall narrowed his eyes. "Maybe one of us should let go."

"Good idea," she growled, tugging the squirrel towards her. They then had a silent stare off, in which neither of them backed down. In the back of her mind, Flightfeather remembered the cats around them turning to watch the confrontation, but she pretended not to notice.

"You know," Stonefall snarled, "there is plenty of other prey in the pile, more your size. See that sparrow? It'd be great for a weaker cat. The squirrel's more for a cat who needs it."

He hid it well, but Flightfeather caught what he implied. A low growl formed in her throat, her claws slid out, and her eyes became slit. Both her and Stonefall's tail were lashing back and forth, and only when she was gathering her haunches did Flightfeather realize what she was doing. Forcing her fur flat and sheathing her claws, she let go of the squirrel, and turned on Stonefall, her deep blue eyes full of resentment.

"Take it," she spat. "Know full well who you're keeping it from." She had flicked her ear toward the nursery and elder's den, but that was more of a message for the watching cats then Stonefall himself. Realizing the position he was put in, he glared at her, let out a small hiss, and whipped around to the warrior's den.

She probably shouldn't have, and in her heart she knew it, but Flightfeather looked back on that situation smugly. She sure showed him. But deep down, there was an emptiness inside, and secretly the brown-and-white she-cat couldn't wait for Voletuft to go to the Moonstone, but whether the reason was due to her anticipation or her quickly falling friendship with Stonefall, she hadn't yet decided.

"It-it's time to name ThunderClan's new leader. I say these words before the body of Oakstar, so that his spirit may hear and approve my choice." Voletuft swallowed nervously, his eyes darting around the Clan, and Flightfeather could almost feel the anticipation coming off their pelts. Oakstar already approves, she thought. He probably was the one who chose me.

"Stonefall will be the new leader of ThunderClan."

Flightfeather's jaw dropped open. Whipping around, she saw Stonefall himself, standing next to the Highrock, his eyes wide with shock. A lump rose in Flightfeather's throat, and she knew she needed to get it out somehow. She was tempted to screech, yell, hiss, anything. But what she did next shocked her more than Voletuft's announcement.

"Stonestar! Stonestar! Stonestar!" she called. Soon, the rest of the Clan took up the call, and the hollow echoed with Stonefall's name. He stared down at her, his pale blue eyes full of surprise and gratitude.

"Thank you," he rumbled, turning to the Clan. "But I'm not Stonestar just yet. I have to go get my nine lives from the Moonstone, but for now I'm still your normal Stonefall. But before I do that," he paused, scanning the Clan. "I need to choose my new deputy."

Flightfeather's head and tail drooped. Great job, she scolded herself. With the way you've been recently, hew probably won't even glance your direction.

"Flightfeather."

"Stonefall. . . Are you-" Flightfeather began, flabbergasted.

"Positive," he meowed, his pale blue eyes glowing.

"Then I accept."

Funny, how only when you here other's whispers about you do you start actually wanting what they say you'd be good for, and their desires become yours. Flightfeather gazed off into the distance, Stonestar by her side, her head rested on his shoulder, and her belly round.

But I'm happy with who I am, she thought contentedly. I am Flightfeather, deputy of ThunderClan.

Huzzah! Done!