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| - Thistlestep sniffed the night air. The scent of dying cats surrounded her, and she forced herself to focus. Cloverstar had fallen ill, showing proof that MoonClan was doomed. The small rays of light shone through the trees, illuminating Thistlestep's gray and white pelt. She was jolted out of her thoughts by the sound of coughing. A young brown apprentice was jolted out of the den before anyone else could breath in the sickness. Thistlestep limped over to the small tom. His body looked frail, and he was shaking in the cold air. "Come Falconpaw. I'll take you to the fallen willow." Thistlestep mewed. The tom nodded, coughing too much to respond properly. As the two cats approached the tree, one of the elders mewed, "Thistlestep? Have you found something?" The gray and white she-cat shook her head. "I'm sorry Streamslip. I've brought Falconpaw. He's displaying the coughing symptoms." Groans emerged from the den. "I'm sorry." Repiled the medicine cat. "But I've never seen this kind of disease before, and I don't know how to treat it." A paunchy tom snarled. "That's what you always say! We're dying! Leafstorm hangs on by a whisker, and Lionpaw is flickering between life and death! Do you know how much agony this brings?" Thistlestep shook her head. "It's not my fault! I didn't ask for a plague! StarClan knows what has brought this, and I don't know of a cure! Our ancestors are not speaking to me!" The tom muttered to himself, then froze as one of the queens cried, "Falconpaw's coughing up blood!" Thistlestep whipped around, as the golden apprentice went from practically puking blood, to shivering, despite the warmth of the den. "Oh no..." Thistlestep murmured. "Petaldusk, keep him warm! I'll alert-" She broke off. Who could she tell? Cloverstar was almost dead, and Wolfclaw was faring no better. We don't have a cat to lead us. Before she could let her fears get the worst of her, she turned around, only to crash into Wolfclaw, his yellow eyes weak. He was hot with fever, and he stopped to spew blood, before mewing, "It's Cloverstar. She's not breathing!" Thistlestep's eyes flew wide, and pushed out of the willow, racing to the rocky crevice. Inside, the brown she-cat lay still, green eyes empty. "She's dead..." Whispered Thistlestep. With one last glance at her leader, she jumped on top of her den. "Let the healthy cats gather! Cloverstar is dead!" As the few healthy cats walked forward, they became nervous. "All cats with no symptoms of the disease are to leave camp, before we all die!" Wolfclaw nodded, his voice trying to carry. "Go! Thistlestep will lead you!" The she-cat froze. "No, I must stay here and help you!" Wolfclaw's voice began to waver. "They will need you! Hurry!" With one last glance at the camp, the few healthy cats MoonClan still had were racing towards the exit, eyes filled with fear. MoonClan reached the edge of the territory, unable to cross into SunClan or WaveClan territory. Thistlestep made herself breathe calmly, knowing that she was the leader now. "We will settle here for now. At tomorrow night's gathering, we will speak to the other leaders for shelter." She mewed, not comfortable with being the cat in charge. She looked out at the crowd, trying to figure out what she'd be working with. For warriors, she only had Foxwhisker, Ivyleaf, and Frostflame. The only apprentices left were Owlpaw and Lilypaw. None of the elders were among them, and Thistlestep wondered how mahy would die in the night. There were two solitary queens, Shadowfur and Robinspots. Shadowfur kept Gorsekit close to her, and Robinspots looked worriedly at her unborn belly. Thistlestep looked at the stars, fear in her eyes. Please StarClan. Send us a sign. Suddenly, a star crossed the sky, and words echoed in her head. Thistlestep gulped. "Will we make it?"
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