Dead Rose

Chapter 3: Enter Frostclan

Hello everyone and welcome to Frostclan, the greatest, the strongest clan this forest has ever seen. There's just no competition, Rainclan would be slaughtered if we went into battle with them, and Deadclan probably wouldn't even try. Plantclan might hold up a bit of a fight for a little while, but hell. As if it would do any good. Yes, we have the best of the best, even our apprentices are strong like warriors. Our apprentices even look like warriors, especially next to the pitiful runts in Rainclan. Well, this is what we're told to say. But as all good things go, there is a catch. A minor flaw that stands in the way. Because nothing is perfect, correct?

My name is Violet, and I was just made a warrior around three moons ago. And yes, I will get into a boring ol speech about myself for no other reason than the fact that it is necessary. Like the Frostclan cats typically go, I stand normal with the rest. I match the other she-cats sizes, maybe with not as much muscle but defiantly not small. Food seems to just burn through me, leaving my skinny legs and body the same size it will ever be. And forever stay that way. Anyways, in Frostclan, there is rules. Rules that are obscenely difficult to follow. Rule number one, always hold your head high even if you don't want to. Yeah well that's kind of difficult when your sinuses hurt so badly it almost hurts to breathe. Rule number two, never talk about weakness. (Would probably be easier to do if our clan wasn't riddled with them. (Oops, I wasn't supposed to say that, was I?) And last but not least, the blessed rule number three: Don't. get. sick. I don't know who came up with this genius list of rules, but let me tell you this. No matter what crappy rules some idiot made up, nature and life doesn't work that way. Sickness happens whether we like it or not. Frostclans got a big problem with sickness, like, it's like an omen of death or something along those lines. It clearly is an omen, but it's a warning, not a threat. It's clearly a sign we are doing things very wrong here. No one understands though. Everyone's always wrapped up in their own little world of glory. My leader is too full of himself and his power to listen to me. Even our deputy, (who may I add was my best friend before I got the sickness) has been brainwashed into thinking the same way.

Now you know a little of our history in Frostclan. Sounds great, doesn't it? Strong cats, battles we never lose... we are the most powerful of the forest. But let me tell you something else, remember rule three I talked about? About never getting sick? Well, guess what happens to the cats that do get sick. No, we don't go to the medicine cats den, because we don't even have a freaking medicine cat. Yeah, you heard me right. At one point we had a cat interested in the position, but got cold feet after coming to the conclusion that being around cats with the sickness all day would give him the sickness too. Makes sense in a weird way I guess, but anyway - back to the point. Cats whom are sick get to be confined in a den all day. A cat will usually take us on a walk to get some fresh air once a day, but usually they forget and we sit in a stinking, stuffy den all day. I'm one of the cats who live in that horrid den, I've had greencough since I was a young apprentice. Everyday it slowly gets worse. I know I'm going to die soon, but what can I do about it? There's gotta be more to life than just sitting in a gross old den for days and days. Weeks and weeks. Moons and moons- oh I think I'm going to go mad! Why can't you just rid my of your sickness? I'd give anything to get out of here. I don't get to go on patrols, I can't go hunting. They don't allow me to go to gatherings. You know, I'd probably be surprised if the rest of the clans didn't even know I existed.

They can't keep me in here for much longer though. I will literally lose my mind. Also, my friend is dying. And I will not sit by and rot to death when I could be at least trying to help. And I think I know a way how. Since death is hovering over me more and more every day, I'm finding it easier to wander during dreams. Sometimes I can seek out other cats from different clans, and sometimes even talk to them. It's difficult, though. Some clans are harder to find than others in dreams. However, I happen to know where it's the easiest to communicate. Deadclan is built over the bodies of the dead, so they are constantly having to deal with spirits and ghosts and whatnot when they sleep. Yes, tonight I will sleep and dream of Deadclan. I will ask them for help. I am going to get me and my sick clanmates to a medicine cat before we all rot and die in this den. And then once the truth about Frostclans cruelty comes out, I will shut them down for good.

Or at least die trying.

...

"Sick cats," an apprentice called out feebly. "Sick cats, wake up!"

Violet stirred awake, roused by the timid voice at the den entrance. She blinked open her eyes to see Swiftpaw standing awkwardly, staring at them with wide eyes.

"I brought you some food," Swiftpaw whispered, shoving forward a small blackbird. "It's not much, but the hunting party didn't bring back much for any of us."

"Thank you," Violets voice shook and croaked as she forced herself to her shaking legs. She slowly walked over, and took the blackbird in her jaws. The sourness of her breath make her nearly choke. Swiftpaw recoiled back at once, as if someone had bit him. A few moons ago this would have offended Violet, but now she was used to it. Swiftpaw wasn't being rude, he was just terrified of getting the sickness himself.

"Will someone be taking us out in the forest today?" Violet asked him quietly. Swiftpaw looked around in panic, eyes scared. "I shouldn't be talking to you," he said quickly. "They get mad at me when I do."

"Swiftpaw, just answer the question," Violet begged. "Are we going to go on a walk today? We're going crazy in here!"

"Swiftpaw!" an angry sounding warrior called out. "What are you doing? Get away from there!"

"I have to go," Swiftpaw whispered, running away. "I'm sorry."

Violet sighed and slumped back down on the floor of the den.

"Can you break up some of that blackbird for me?" an elder with the sickness croaked. "It's too stiff."

Violet looked over sympathetically at her friend, an old tom cat named Rust. Rust had the sickness for a very long time, he was the one who had been in here the longest. His frail paws touched the blackbird, feeling it for its softness. Blackbird ripped off a share for him and chewed it with her front teeth to soften it, careful not to get spit on it. Rust had no teeth, they all rotted out from the sickness. Violet shuddered every time she thought of it. Someday my teeth will all rot out too. Violet passed Rust his share, and he did his best to eat it.

"Is that all they gave us?" a she cat with the sickness croaked. "Do they want us to starve too?"

"We're just going to have to make do with it," Violet said sadly, handing her a piece. "Swiftpaw told me the prey was slim today."

"Yet they have enough for a piece each," Blackpaw hissed angrily, looking out from his peephole. "I can see them all, they're more or less having a feast while all we got is one stinking blackbird."

Violet didn't reply, just slowly ate her share of the bird in silence. The skin was rough and dry, and it tasted stale. They would give us the worst pick on the pile. She finished her meal in a few gulps, and when she was done her belly still rumbled in hunger.

"I'm going to go ask for a good piece of prey," Rust suddenly announced, hunger and sickness clouding his brain of sense. "They can't treat us like this," and with that, he heaved himself to his paws and stumbled out of the den before Violet could stop him.

"You, listen here!" Rust called out, voice breaking and cracking. His body swayed, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. "You cats give me a good piece of prey this instant!"

Violet shoved Blackpaw out of the way to look through the peephole, and wasn't surprised to see five warriors herding the sick cat back to the den.

"You don't come out unless we say you can!" a huge warrior yelled, shoving Rust back in cruelly. Rust crumbled to his paws and collapsed on his stomach, gasping. Violet felt tears sting her eyes, but she forced herself to blink them away. We can't escape, ever, she thought to herself. Not even at night. They guard us. She knew they posted guards around the camp at night, because of several failed attempts to sneak away in the dark. She slowly walked over and helped Rust get up and to his nest, not speaking. We can never be free.

Wait.

A thought struck Violet so hard she wondered why she hadn't thought of it before. Unless I send out a cry for help...

Violet curled up and shut her eyes, hoping for sleep to come quick.

"What are you doing?" Blackpaw asked. "It's not time for sleep yet."

"I'm getting us out of here," Violet whispered determinedly. "They can't keep us prisoner forever."