The tiny black-and-white kit trembled in his nest, short of breath. The past leafbare had been harsh, and Birchkit had quickly grown sick. However, he hadn't wanted to worry anyone, so he had kept it to himself until it was too late. What had started as a slight fever had quickly escalated into Greencough, and Birchkit stood no chance in his fight for survival. As his vision faded to darkness around the edges, Birchkit began to wish that he had told someone... maybe he would have survived. "At least I'll have a home in Starclan," he mused, before his eyelids slid shut. His green eyes never opened again.
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