Redfeather's Death

Redfeather padded out of camp, shoulders hunched and tail dragging. His pelt was unkempt with scraps of moss clinging to it. He collapsed not far off, unable to curl himself up. The young warrior began coughing, struggling to sit himself up. When he finally stopped, his breathing was ragged. He dug his claws into the ground, forcing himself up and leaning against a willow tree for support. Green eyes widening, he tried to race to the camp which caused him to fall back down with another coughing fit. This couldn't be happening. Sure, the tom had been feeling horrible for the past moon or two, but this was terrifying.

What's happening? Redfeather's eyes began to glaze over, breathing slowing down rapidly. He fought to keep his heart beating, fear pulsing through his veins. "I-I can't die, Starclan!" his voice was hoarse as he tried to breath, "I-I need to stay with my clan! Morningfur will be..." he dropped his head, voice even inaudible for him. "she'll be heartbroken. I can't...do that...to her. Please, Starclan...no." his voice stopped completly, head resting in the grass. It had happened. The young warrior was gone, like that. Dead, forever.