It's there! The chapter I struggled so much on! It's also the longest so far, I hope you'll find it good enough.

Snaildapple had always been more cautious than ambitious. For some, it had been a flaw.

Not for Blossomstar who had named him as her deputy, placing her trust in him. Despite his protests, she had told him that it was because his actions felt disinterested that she had chosen him.

"We can't make the same mistakes as them," she had said, and truly, he could only agree.

Besides, in such a small Clan, his role wasn't that difficult so there wasn't much pressure. He only had to organise patrols – and the leader took care of most of what had to do with hunting. He could take it easy, spend time with Bluestripe and their still very young kits. Really, life was meant to be simple now.

So why was he always the one picking up strays?

Last moon, it had been Heatherrump with the late Mudholly's daughters. It had been fine, because they knew him, even if he had been a forgettable medicine cat in their old Clan – always hidden in his predecessor's shadow, just like they all had been, one way or another. But now… He looked down at the hissing she-cat feeding her kits that he had found near the thunderpath. Her hiss morphed into a growl as he took a step closer, and Snaildapple gave in to the pressing urge to sigh. How was he even supposed to explain that?

Bringing the pale ginger tabby to the camp had been easy, once he had convinced her he meant no harm. And even though Blossomstar was afraid of overpopulation – with good reason – there was no way that she would leave a queen and her kits to fend for themselves when leaf-fall was so close.

So after a short visit to Pricklesong and Heatherrump's den, Crookedflight settled in the nursery with Skykit, Cheetahkit and Pigeonkit. If the youngest inhabitants of the nursery quickly deemed the whole ordeal very boring and went out to play with Hootpaw – who, still forbidden any strenuous activity after a nasty fight against a hawk, seemed to regret the quiet times when only a few kits would bother him, because seven was a lot – Alderwhisper and Bluestripe seemed enchanted to make a new friend and quickly introduced her to the Clan's habits. With how gossipy they were being, Snaildapple wouldn't be surprised if their new member ended up knowing everyone's dirty secrets by moonrise. He licked his paw dejectedly: there was no stopping them anyway.

He would have gladly kept on going with his quiet life. Actually, that was the plan, until he came back a quarter of a moon later, to a grim-faced Alderwhisper taking care of her kits – she had immediately volunteered to take care of her deceased friend's twins, even if she was young and Honeykit was her first kit, which Snaildapple found worthy of praise – and three of his. His unease only grew when she directed him towards the medicine cat den.

And sure enough, his fears were confirmed when he found his mate, Lichen kit, Crookedflight and her whole litter, all smelling strongly of herbs he didn't remember. From time to time, a cough broke the tense silence. Well, that and Pricklesong and Heatherrump's muffled voices, arguing out of earshot. Whatever it meant, it couldn't be good, and Snaildapple found himself pacing in the clearing, waiting for news. Grasslilac distracted him for a while by asking about patrols, but even if he felt grateful towards the older warroir for trying, it did nothing to quell his worry.

Pricklesong's hasty exit – she practically collided with him – didn't help either, especially as she motioned him to follow with a sharp movement of the tail. They burst unannounced into Blossomstar's den, catching her mid-lick, and her bewildered eyes would have been funny if the medicine cat hadn't been so nervous.

"Whitecough."

Both the leader and him stiffened at that single word, and the light grey warrior sat straighter, waiting. As for himself, he let his tail flick nervously from side to side.

"It can't be anything else," continued the brown and white she-cat, "but we barely have enough tansy to treat Crookedflight, her kits and Lichenkit. Catmint would have been better but…"

"I know," Blossomstar interrupted. "We don't have any. Is there a chance that it could spread?"

"We found out early, so it might be fine, as long as we keep them away from everyone else. Heatherrump must be pushing Bluestripe out of the den by now."

He was so busy panicking that he missed the leader calling his name.

"-dapple? Snaildapple!"

Her voice made him snap out of his thoughts and he threw her a guilty look that she ignored in favour of giving orders.

"Send Webhollow to look for tansy and catmint. She's not a medicine cat, but her memory is good. Tell her to take someone else – Hootpaw, Mumblepond, Flipspot, whoever is free – with her, and don't forget to remind them to leave enough of it so we can still pick some later. And keep your mate out of the medicine cat den; by the scruff of her neck if you need to."

"But…"

"But what? You have three other kits to take care of. Do you want to put them all in danger? If their mother is sick, the chance that they catch whitecough too will be much higher. Pricklesong, does Crookedflight have enough milk to feed one more kit?"

"Lichenkit had begun eating solid food so it should be fine."

"You heard that? Send Bluestripe back to the nursery. Call me if you need help."

He was about to turn back, but she stopped him, her voice suddenly less harsh.

"And Snaildapple… I know it's difficult but please understand. I've brought you all here partly because illnesses were killing us; I can't and I won't put the whole Clan in danger."

He nodded sharply. It was logical, it was right. It didn't make anything less painful. Dealing with this was easier when it was others. Now, with the situation involving his own daughter, it was much more difficult. He wanted nothing more than being allowed to stay with her until she got better. And so, at that moment, his leader's apparent coldness made him cringe.

It was like she hadn't lost anyone, like she had no heart. But orders were orders, and as the deputy, he couldn't really contradict her unless she was in the wrong. Besides, if he didn't do as she had asked of him, she wasn't above doing things herself, which would ultimately lead to the same results.

Overcoming Bluestripe's desire to stay in the medicine cat den was harder than he had imagined – and yet he had conjured what felt like the worst possibilities. He had almost had to drag her out, and soon, she was screaming at him in the middle of the clearing, where everyone would hear, even if they had quickly left, feeling the silver tabby queen's incoming fury.

"It's your fault!" she accused at last before disappearing into the nursery. "If you hadn't brought them here, it would never have happened!"

As much as he wanted to, Snaildapple couldn't deny that the thought had crossed his mind too. That he should have ignored Crookedflight and the cries of her kits. But it was unfair: the newcomer was just as worried as them, on top of being sick herself. She hadn't wanted to bring whitecough into the Clan any more than him, and she hadn't even been sick at first.

He knew that his mate was distressed because Lichenkit was the runt of their litter, still quite small and delicate, and he hoped that once she would have gotten over her anger, she would realise that it wasn't anybody's fault. Only a major stroke of bad luck. United together, it would be easier to believe that their daughter would make a swift recovery.

It made him understand Blossomstar better though. It wasn't that she didn't feel, just that she couldn't allow herself, as the leader, to be ruled by her emotions when the time came to make difficult choices. Now that the thought of it, she hadn't urged them to depart when her sister had shown signs of illness; she had kept on preparing everything so that all of the current MistClan could leave on schedule and find a new camp ready to house them.

In a way, she had sacrificed her sister to free them – it had been deeply unjust of him to consider, even briefly, that she couldn't possibly understand his pain. Snaildapple was suddenly very grateful for the leader's presence. He was still very unsure about the position she had given him, but, with her guidance, he probably would be better than the deputy of their old Clan at the very least. The light grey tabby was the right leader for them, and he would never regret following her.

But, as amazing as she was, she wouldn't deal with his mate problems for him, that, he obviously had to do himself. He found Bluestripe curled up around Silverkit, Mousekit and Olivekit, sleeping as if all her energy had been drained and he resolved to leave her be. There would be plenty of time for them to talk later.

Or there would be if she stopped avoiding him.

Things stayed locked in this strange standstill for a while. Sometimes, Snaildapple would see his mate talking to Pricklesong in the clearing, or she would pass him by when he came back from a patrol, or he would spot her silver tail disappearing in the nursery from the corner of his eyes. It was enough for the kits to notice how tense they were; but luckily with a few reassurances they let it go. No matter how much he longed to talk things out with Bluestripe, her tendency to steer clear of him and his duties were in the way.

Harder still was the impossibility to spend time with Lichenkit properly. Webhollow had found some tansy, but his daughter's health didn't seem to get better and, as much as they tried to hide it, it was increasingly obvious that it worried the medicine cats too. The raspy cough wracking the kit's small body ever so often broke Snaildapple's heart. Next to the quickly recovering Crookedflight, his little runt's illness looked even worse and each passing moment made Bluestripe grow colder. Even more painful was his own powerlessness: there was nothing he could do but tell stories and gently throw moss balls.

When Heatherrump greeted him hurriedly after a hunt, his wort fears – the thoughts he hadn't let himself entertain, even in the darkest hours of the night – were confirmed. He didn't waste time and entered the medicine cat den as fast as he physically could.

The image of his mate and daughter snuggled up together would have been endearing – just like it had been when the litter was born – in any other circumstances. But they both seemed so small now, lost in a nest of half dry moss. Lichenkit blinked blearily, and she looked so much like him that it was unnerving. Same dark grey fur, same yellow eyes. Except that, somehow, everything about her was dull, as dull as her bedding.

Half dry. Half dead.

Snaildapple lay on Lichenkit's unoccupied side and began to lick her between the ears. She settled more comfortably to sleep; just above her shoulder, he noticed how wet Bluestripe's eyes were. This time, when he tangled his tail with hers as their daughter's breath evened out, instead of pushing him away, she drew closer.

Later, much later – but was it, really? – it seemed, when Lichenkit's difficult breathing finally eased into stillness and silence, Bluestripe howled so long and loud that the whole forest had to be aware of her sorrow and still, Snaildapple was powerless, barely able to comfort her, shocked as he was too. Her cry ended on a broken note, and he had nothing to say, no gentle word of reassurance, so he only squeezed her tail harder, hoping it was enough to convey what his voice could not bring itself to.

They brought the small body into the clearing, and immediately, Flipspot and Grasslilac offered them condolences, bringing their three kits who were much more quiet than usual, except for the odd sniff here and there. The older couple had been in their place, he realised belatedly. They had gone through this pain again and again, burying all their kits one after the other until none were left and they gave up on trying.

When they had decided to have kits, Snaildapple hadn't envisioned paternity like that, and Bluestripe probably hadn't either.

Slowly, all the Clan came to comfort them. Alderwhisper with a few words murmured in the ear, Mumblepond with an awkward lick on the shoulder, Webhollow with a brush of the tail along the back, Hootpaw with a rub of the head, Heatherrump and Pricklesong with a guilt that they shouldn't have felt.

When Crookedflight's turn came, Snaildapple tensed, fearing his mate's reaction, but the other she-cat was so genuinely sad and Bluestripe so tired of useless anger that he could almost se the fight leave her body as the two ended up pressed against each other.

Blossomstar came last. She didn't utter a word, just deeply bowed her head after giving a last lick to Lichenkit before returning to her den.

Then, they were left to mourn, together with their remaining kits. Olivekit, Silverkit and Mousekit curled up next to them, and the vigil began. His night would be long, but he hoped that the travel to StarClan was short.

The rising sun gave signal to bury the body. The hole had already been dug, their friends helping however they could. Leaving the camp, Snaildapple caught the leader's green eyes. She looked cold again. One could even say glacial. Even though he knew better than anyone in MistClan – except maybe for Pricklesong – that there were feelings underneath the facade, her impassive stare gave him chills.

He tried to remember how Blossomstar had reacted to her sister's death and couldn't find anything. She had been at the vigil, of course, but there had been no wet eyes, no screams, nothing of noticeable importance.

The amount of grief that she was hiding in order to lead the Clan was probably terrifying, he realised with horror. He threw her one last look, but she had already turned away.

Suddenly, Snaildapple wondered if that was really what he wanted to become.

As always, thanks for reading, and see you next chapter!