Silent Night..

It had been a while.
A while indeed, since Deadstar had even done anything. Lately, he'd been feeling.. frail. Old.
It bothered him, but he knew he wouldn't stay young forever. He lay, curled in his mossy bed, shivering at the draft that crept into his den. A spluttering bout of coughing erupted from his mouth, and it caused his body to shudder violently and uncontrollably. Deadstar tried to settle himself down, but he was shaking now, unable to calm his nerves. His vision, especially in his left eye, was blurry, and his head felt hot. He knew it was blackcough, and he knew this was it. He knew his last couple of lives had ebbed away during the past couple of days, and he knew this was the end.
The problem was, what would the Clan think, to find their leader laying dead in his den? It would be simply horrifying, since kits enjoyed bouncing in and out, and picking at the lichen at the entrance.
Suddenly, he knew.

I'll leave, he thought, and struggled to a sitting position. "I'll leave." Slowly, he rose to his paws, ignoring the burning he felt in his lungs as he sucked in a breath of icy air. Padding unsteadily out of his den, he whisked across the clearing. He found himself stop to stare into the warriors' den. His gaze rest on the sleeping Silversoul. Take good care of ThunderClan, my deputy. May StarClan bless you. Tearing his eyes away from the heart-wrenching scene of the Clan that was once his, he exited the camp of ThunderClan for the last time.


Outside, a harsh, bone-chilling gale thrashed about like a landed fish, and tiny shards of ice pierced Deadstar's body. The air was so frigid and cold, every hair on his body stood up, but he forced it back down, willing to let the storm engulf him in it's wicked, cruel hands.
On and on he trudged through the knee-deep snow, having to squint in the howling whiteness. It seemed like moons before he reached the spot he desired. It was a small, hollow stump, just big enough for a kit to fit into. This, he knew, was the hole he'd sheltered in when lost in a blizzard as a kit, and this would be the place he would die as a leader. So, Deadstar began to dig.
Down and down he dug, clawing madly but precisely. Long hours came and went, and his body was beginning to numb. Then, Deadstar climbed into the hole, and lay down. So cold.. so cold.. so cold..

The words churned around like a storm within the inner abyss of his mind, until it too, felt frozen and useless.
As the light began to fade from the ThunderClan leader's vision, he saw images. Grinning faces, twitching whiskers. The sounds of joyous kits, squealing about and tackling him to the grass. The feel of fur touching fur, the feel of hot breath and a head leaning against his shoulder. Tears, heartache, courage, leadership and love. He felt these things.
As the life began to seep out of the ThunderClan leader's body, he saw a star. A bright, dancing, gleaming star.
Come to me, dear one.. Come to me..
There was a soft sigh, and the numbing daggers of sorrow, grief and pain eased, into a delicate warmth that flooded Deadstar's body.
"Farewell.."
Thus, the noble leader, father and comforter that was Deadstar, was no more. The snow caved in with a dull thump.
It was finished.

Silversoul stirred in her sleep. She was accustomed to waking up at dawn now, because she usually led the dawn patrol. Carefully stepping over the loose tails and paws of her clanmates, she slipped out the entrance. The snow had caught her by suprise because she couldn't smell it and she was so warm in the den. Silversoul decided that she'd see if Deadstar would go on the patrol with her. She treaded through the snow until she reached the leader's den and stopped at the lichen cover.
"Deadstar."
She called, hoping not to startle the leader whom she thought was still there.
"Would you like to come patrolling with me?"
When she heard no response, she sighed and decided she'd go on her own.
"Maybe tomorrow..."
She proceded to pad out of the camp. Her paws crunched faintly in the snow, but the sound was dampened. Silversoul stopped dead when she scented something faint. Something she decided was not quite right. Was that a hint of... sickness? She followed the faint trail at high speeds. It was rubbed of on trees and bushes and stumps barely sticking from the snow. She followed it the stump of a tree, and it ended. It had been clawed at, the tree stump revealed.
"What...? What happened here?"
She was puzzled. Silversoul decided to leave it. Maybe she'd explore with some warriors when the snow had passed.

She slowly padded back into camp. The borders had been patrolled all by herself. Luckily there was no trouble. She shivered. Deciding to check on the leader, she padded back to the lichen. The sickness got her thinking. She'd left the trunk thinking it was a sick squirrel that had run through camp, but came back fearing it was a cat of the Clan.
"Deadstar?"
Silversoul called into the den.
"Deadstar, please answer!"
She was desperate.
It couldn't have been him... could it? No, I would never allow it!
"I'm coming in."
She said fiercly. She first stuck her nose in, then recoiled. Sickness stronger than she'd ever scented before filled her nostrils. Worry filled her mind and she charged in.
"Deadstar? Deadstar!"
She couldn't tell weather he was inside or not. Her sense of smell was fogged up by the sickness. But common sense told her he wasn't. She remembered the trail of disease leading to the clawed-at trunk. It was like he dug his own grave.
No... "NO! He... He couldn't have! He couldn't have left... left me here..."
She lay down on the cold, sickly floor and wept.
"How could he leave me here? How could he leave me now?"

"Stop weeping.."
There was a voice, enshrined among the cold gusts of wind, it's maker consumed by the winter storm. "Be an example to your Clan, Silversoul.."
An image did not develop, but rather, the voice faded eerily.
"Stop weeping.."