Time passed quickly as Sharpthunder adjusted to his new position as deputy. The tom felt like his days were flying past. At the end of each, he was barely awake enough to share tongues with Ravenbloom before falling asleep. He did not dream of StarClan again, even though every time he closed his eyes, he prayed for a chance to speak to Flailpaw again.

The sickness was still ravaging the camp. It had been half a moon since Mossstar lost her last two lives to it and Midgestar became leader. In that time, it had taken Silverhare, and threatened many more. It felt like every cat in the camp had come close to dying of the sickness, except for Sharpthunder himself. For whatever reason, he had not had so much as a sniffle since the illness broke out.

Midgestar had not been so lucky. Since the day after she returned from the Falls, she had been spending most of the day in her den. Sharpthunder has had to seek her out every time he wants to update her on something in the Clan, or converse with her. He suspected she was disconnected so much because she was still grieving Mossstar. He wished she would move on, for the sake of the Clan. They were hungry, and scared, and they needed a strong leader.

At the dawn of yet another day, Sharpthunder stretched luxuriously and yawned as he blinked the haziness of sleep out of his eyes. Ravenbloom's nest was still warm beside him, but the she-cat was gone, off leading the dawn patrol as he had ordered her to last night. Cinnamonholly slept across the den, the rise and fall of his flank interrupted by a harsh cough every few moments.

For a while, Cinnamonholly had been sleeping in the medicine den, and everyone had been sure he would succumb to the illness, but he had hung on by a thread. At his own insistence, he was back to warrior duties. Rindlebramble said that some activity would be good for clearing out his lungs.

At the thought of Rindlebramble, Sharpthunder brightened. The medicine cat had kitted a few sunrises ago, and the kits ought to be opening their eyes and beginning to explore the camp soon. Sharpthunder felt weak with relief when he considered that sooner rather than later, all of the kits would be apprentices, something the Clan desperately needed.

His relief faded and was replaced with frustration as he realized that even though Twigpaw had been an apprentice for nearly six moons, and had been taking on warrior duties for the last half-moon with no complaint, Midgestar had not mentioned wanting to hold her well-deserved warrior ceremony yet.

Sharpthunder sighed. He felt like if he didn't go out of his way to tell Midgestar that something was happening, she wouldn't know. He realized that she had not even been out to visit Rindlebramble's kits, despite how close of a relationship she had with the medicine cat. They often spent hours holed up in the leader's den together, discussing who knows what.

The sun had just broken above the far mountains as Sharpthunder rose and padded into the center of camp. He resolved to speak to Midgestar about Twigpaw's warrior ceremony today. Her mentor had been Silverhare, but after he had died, no one had appointed her a new mentor as her training had been more or less complete.

The prey pile was full from yesterday's hunting patrols. Sharpthunder selected a blackbird for Midgestar to eat, and a sand crab for himself, before he padded over to her den. He leapt over the ring of stones and paused at the entrance to the den, mewing a greeting.

At Midgestar's grunted invitation, Sharpthunder pushed his way through the trailing willow leaves overhanging the entrance to the den. Midgestar was sitting in her nest, looking as if she had just gotten up. Sharpthunder set the blackbird down in front of her and was immediately struck with the smell of sickness.

"Midgestar," he began nervously, "are you feeling alright?"

The she-cat's voice came out raspy, as if she had been coughing all night. "Oh, yes, Sharpthunder. Just a sore throat."

Midgestar's usually well-groomed long black fur looked dull and tangled, as if she had not groomed it in a long while. Her white chest was dusted with trimmings of moss from her nest. She looked unkempt, and her cobalt eyes were uncharacteristically droopy with tiredness. She looked older, impossibly older, though Sharpthunder had just seen her yesterday.

"Let me send for Rindlebramble," Sharpthunder said, turning around, but was stopped by Midgestar's quick reply.

"No!" she hissed. "She is with her kits. I am fine. I will be feeling better soon."

Unease pooled within Sharpthunder's chest. He knew by then that the sickness struck quickly and can take more than one life from a leader. Midgestar already appeared wearier than she had been just a few days ago when she had so confidently shared with Sharpthunder the sign that StarClan had sent her on her way home from the falls.

"Have you been to see them?" Sharpthunder asked, trying to change the subject before Midgestar became even angrier.

"No," she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. She stared at Sharpthunder for a moment, and then shook her head. "I will soon. Is there anything else?"

Sharpthunder squinted, uneasy at being dismissed so quickly. He thought something was really wrong with Midgestar. He couldn't exactly order her to be seen by the medicine cat, though, and she was right—Rindlebramble was with her kits. Bitterly, Sharpthunder wondered if the old way of medicine cats being forbidden to have kits that Beachfeather spoke of perhaps had some utility.

"Yes, there is one thing," he continued, taking a breath to settle himself. "Twigpaw has been excellent, especially since Silverhare died. She has been performing the duties of a full warrior with no complaint. I think it is time she receives her warrior name."

"Do you?" Midgestar meowed, pondering. "Alright. I will do it today at dusk. You may tell her the good news."

Sharpthunder's tail shot straight up in relief that something had gone right during this visit. "Great. Thank you, Midgestar."

He nudged the blackbird toward the she-cat and picked up his sand crab, remembering that he had been dismissed. She purred a quiet thank-you and tucked into the bird, still crouched in her nest.

As Sharpthunder exited the den and hopped down from the dune, he noticed Ravenbloom, Bugstripe, and Twigpaw arriving back in camp after their patrol along the OakClan border. Twigpaw held a large mouse in her jaws. She meowed something at Bugstripe, and his paws scrabbled in the sand as he whirled around, took the mouse from her, and then trotted off to the nursery to see his kits and give the prey to his mate.

Ravenbloom's keen gaze immediately spotted Sharpthunder, and she veered off to meet him. He greeted her with a purr and rubbed his muzzle along hers, relishing her familiar scent. For a moment, he missed the simpler times, when the only thing on his mind was if Ravenbloom liked him or not. Now, he knows he is duty bound to fulfill his destiny serving WillowClan, and he can't find it within himself to complain about that, even just to himself.

"How was it?" he asked, sitting down and nudging his sand crab toward her. She shook her head politely.

"I ate before we left," she explained, and then launched into a detailed explanation of everything that happened on patrol. "We saw an OakClan patrol renewing their scent marks just above Highcliffs. They looked like they were lingering a little too long, as if they were considering going further onto our territory."

A prickle of alarm ran down Sharpthunder's spine. Highcliffs, at the corner of WillowClan's beach and the bottom of OakClan's forest, has been a contested landmark for as long as any cat can remember. WillowClan had held it for many seasons now, and they would not be ready to give it up without a fight!

"What did you do?" he asked, his voice betraying his anxiety.

"Relax, you silly furball," Ravenbloom purred. "Bugstripe and I thought it would be a good idea for them to see us renewing our scent marks, too. So, they know we still patrol and care about that border. Twigpaw wanted to ask them what they were doing so close to our border, but I told her not to start trouble when we aren't strong enough to back it up."

Sharpthunder nodded. His warriors had handled it as he would have himself. But… "Do you really think that?"

"Think what?" Ravenbloom asked in-between licks as she smoothed her gray chest fur down.

"That WillowClan is not strong enough to defend Highcliffs."

Ravenbloom looked at him a little incredulously. "We have a total of five warriors, you, and an apprentice. Cinnamonholly is still sick, too. Our medicine cat is nursing kits. And we haven't seen Midgestar in days."

"Midgestar has a lot on her mind," he murmured, instinctively defending his leader. "I thought we were doing alright."

"We're doing as well as we can be," Ravenbloom soothed him with a lick to his ear. "You're doing a great job. It's just hard right now, and we can't handle any cat getting hurt when we're still trying to fight off this sickness."

"I wonder how OakClan is coping with it," Sharpthunder muttered.

"You think they have it, too?" Ravenbloom asked, her interest suddenly piqued.

Sharpthunder remembered with a start that the other Clans potentially struggling with the same illness was something that Flailpaw had alluded to, and was not something his Clanmates would know. Quickly, he mewed, "I don't know."

"We will find out at the Gathering," Ravenbloom mentioned, resuming her grooming. She noticed Sharpthunder's striped tail swishing back and forth in thought, and pinned it down with one of her paws. "Stop worrying. I'm sure everything is fine."

The Gathering! Of course. The moon had been nearly full last night. The Gathering must be in only a few days. He needed to figure out who Midgestar wanted to go. Nervously, he recalled that this would be his first Gathering as deputy, and since the Clan lost Mossstar. With Midgestar in her current state, Sharpthunder wasn't sure how she would make it to the Gathering, or what kind of message her condition would send.

"Do you know who will be going?" Ravenbloom asked, then continued without waiting for an answer, "Goldenlion was saying she doesn't want to, being close to moving into the nursery, and all. Cinnamonholly is still pretty sick. Twigpaw deserves to go, I think."

Sharpthunder stopped listening as Ravenbloom continued pondering who should go to the Gathering. Goldenlion was pregnant? And about to move into the nursery? He shook his head to himself. He is no better than Midgestar; he has no idea what is going on in his Clan!

"Twigpaw is going to have her warrior ceremony tonight," Sharpthunder meowed. "Will you let her know?"

"Yes!" Ravenbloom sprung to her paws and bounded across the clearing to the large, flat stones beside the apprentices' den, where Twigpaw was laying out and getting some sun after working hard all morning. Sharpthunder watched the she-cats as Ravenbloom delivered the news and purred as Twigpaw leapt to her paws excitedly.

Sharpthunder's excitement at having another warrior was tempered by the new knowledge that Goldenlion would be out of commission, soon. Twigpaw would take over her duties. Hopefully Rindlebramble would be back in the medicine den soon, especially if Midgestar was beginning to fall ill. The last thing the Clan needed was for their leader to lose lives to the sickness that had killed their last one.