Fireheart
That little mousebrained—Fireheart dashed through the forest, following Cinderpelt's trail. Stay at camp! What's so complicated about that?! He dodged a low growing oak branch and leapt over a moss covered boulder. Why couldn't that hyperactive apprentice just obey?
And it had to be Tigerclaw who needed the message. The one cat he needed to reassure, and now his apprentice was running rampant trying to "help"!
"CINDERPAW! STOP! COME BACK!" Oh no… That can't be good. He bounded into the clearing just in time to see a monster clip Cinderpaw, tossing her onto the hot, smelly thunderpath. He bounded towards his apprentice, but Tigerclaw got there first. This just keeps getting better and better. He saw the deputy pick the apprentices body up and drag it to the side of the road where he carefully set it down. Huh, the mousebrain actually cares about her! He bounded to Cinderpaw's side.
"Is she dead?" the ginger cat mewed hopefully, trying to sound panicked.
Tigerclaw shook his head, "No, she's breathing. But it looks bad." For the first time Fireheart noticed that Cinderpaw's leg was twisted in a painful angle, with blood seeping from the ruind limb. How ironic. She dashes into trouble and she'll never dash again!
Fireheart took it upon himself to carry Cinderpaw back to camp. He wasn't a medicine cat, but he was pretty sure that Cinderpaw wouldn't be up and about anytime soon. He tried to decide on a proper level of distress as he climbed down the narrow slope and into the ThunderClan camp. A few surrounding cats gasped in horror, and Frostfure wailed as they approached, forgetting her fresh kill completely. Firepaw padded into Yellowfang's den and laid the limp young cat on a pile of moss. He hesitated briefly before giving her dirty ear a quick lick. There, that would make it look like he cared. He hardly had a chance to catch his breath before Frostfur leapt into the room, practically dragging Yellowfang with her. The medicine cat hurried over to the apprentice, and gave her a quick sniff.
"She's hurt very badly," she announced, "But I might be able to save her." Fox dung. She turned to Fireheart, "Bluestar is very sick. Only StarClan can decide her fate now. She's been asking for you." Fireheart nodded and padded out of the medicine den. He paused in the center of the clearing for a brief glance around the camp. Of course, Graystripe wasn't there. Probably with that fox hearted RiverClan she cat again. He continued on his course, climbing up to the den in which Bluestar was resting.
She didn't look good. She lay on her side, fur matted, and breathing in hoarse gasps. Recognition flickered across her dull eyes as she spotted Fireheart standing at the entrance to her den.
"Quiet now, Fireheart," For the first time he notice Goldenflower sitting beside Bluestar, a look of deep sorrow in her eyes, "She hasn't been responding to the herbs." At loss for a better thing to do, Fireheart padded to Bluestar's side and lay down, watching his leader carefully. Don't die. If Tigerclaw's leader, he'll make sure I have no chance to lead anything more then a dirt patrol!
It was nearing sunrise when Blustar stopped breathing.
Fireheart felt his heart sink. His last hope at becoming the leader of ThunderClan was now lying cold on the floor of a den. Slain by a freak bout of greencough.
Then Bluestar groaned. Fireheart almost leaped out of his skin, B-but she was dead! Then it dawned on him. Maybe that whole nine lives thing wasn't just hocus pocus. He calmed his breathing and tried to look happy. Even if it was true she had had nine lives, now she only had one left. It was only a matter of time. He breezed through a conversation with Bluestar about who knows what and was finally dismissed to go sleep. So Cinderpaw and Bluestar, both almost gone in one day. Maybe it's a warning. Maybe it means I need to move faster with my plan. He had been scared when he had realized how close all of his work had been to failure. That would never happen again.