The Death of a Zombie (Closed for IceStorm)

The sickness had consumed him. They were not separate things, Barrenpaw and the sickness, but one whole being. Barrenpaw didn't have the illness, he was the illness. His short fur was torn out in places and crusted with barf, his limbs were weak and he could barely move them, he was sweating even though it was cold, and his heart seemed like it would beat right out of his chest; Barrenpaw was some sort of zombie. He wanted to help the clan...no, he needed to help the clan. The apprentice stumbled into the territory and opened his mouth to scent prey, but instead of smelling the air he vomited. Barrenpaw doubled over and collapsed, but dragged himself forward a bit before he could regain control of his muscles and stand up. His vision became blurred and started to become covered in black dots. Spasms took over him, and suddenly a seizure struck. He shook and flailed, loosing control of his body.

When the apprentice stopped he coughed and puked again, then crawled forward. "I...just...need to...catch...some prey. I...need..to feed the...clan," he croaked out in a dry, raspy voice. The sound of violent water flooded his senses...or was that just his blood rushing in his ears? He couldn't make out what was going on because he was too dizzy and his eyesight was covered in black spots. Another seizure jerked Barrenpaw and he found himself dropping strait down, but he didn't understand that he was falling off the gorge.

Troutstep laid near the edge of camp, wondering what to do. He looked around for his apprentice Barrenpaw. Recently the smaller cat and the clan had been sick, but Troutstep was lucky to not be sick. I wonder where Barrenpaw could be... Troutstep got up and walked over to the apprentice den but didn't see him. After walking around for a few moments, he started to get worried. A sick cat is as good as dead if not in camp. Troutstep ran out of camp, following the horrid scent of sickness. Every few foxlengths, there was barf, and unfortunately it was covered in Barrenpaw's scent.

"Barrenpaw? Barrenpaw where are you?" The tom yelled liked a queen trying to find her lost kit. He finally caught up with his apprentice but was too late. "No! Look out!" he screeched and ran towards his apprentice. But he was too late. Barrenpaw went tumbling over the edge, into the abyss. Troutstep stood in horror and scrambled down the rocks by the water. Hopefully, he would be able to grab the apprentice's scruff. The odds were against him and Barrenpaw was probably dead, but Troutstep wouldn't give up and wanted to at least say his farewells.

The patched tabby tom's seizure stopped on his way down and his eyes widened as he saw Troutstep's face peering over the edge of the Gorge. Barrenpaw smashed into a rock that was jutting out from the Gorge's side, causing a deep gash to cut into his side and him to barf as he fell through the air. The apprentice plummeted into the freezing river before he could catch a breath. Panic flooded over him; he was too sick to comprehend what was happening and he tried to suck in a breath of air but water filled his mouth. He shook violently in another series of seizures as he was continued to be pulled underwater by the current. Even when...or if...Troutstep got him out of the river, Barrenpaw was going to die no matter what.

Troutstep managed to drag Barrenpaw awkwardly onto the rocks. "B--Barrenpaw?" He said, tears running down his face. His best friend, beside his brother was dead. "Why? Why!" He screeched into the air. "Is this because I killed that cat? This this my punishment? But why him? An innocent cat?" He slashed a claw on the rock. Isn't Slushfang about to have kits? How will the stress of his death... His thoughts trailed off. Good by my friend. May your journey in StarClan be better than it was here. He gave Barrenpaw a lick on the head.

The tom managed to open his eyes one last time. "Troutstep," he murmured weakly before his eyes glazed over and he was gone

Troutstep looked at the tom, tears swelling in his eyes. "I...I..." He sputtered but couldn't think of anything to say. When the tom's eyes turned clear like a pearl, Troutstep could almost feel his friend's spirit rising as StarClan whisked him away. Good luck Barrenpaw." Troutstep knew he should bring the body back to camp, but the cliff was too steep. Instead, Troutstep groomed the tom's fur and laid his motionless body neatly on the rock, almost making it look as if the apprentice was sleeping. Besides, this place was more peaceful than camp. Troutstep climbed to the top of this cliff and looked down, seeing the small body of Barrenpaw. The RiverClan tom solemnly walked towards reeds and stopped to look at the sky. "Take good care of him, you hear?" His meow was directed towards StarClan. Then he walked off into the reed bed, as a broken cat.