Two sides to every berry ((CLOSED))

Sitting in the medicine cat den, Smokepelt's head hung low as he sat next to his son's small and mangled body. The small kit was fast asleep, his sides slowly rising and falling as he breathed soft yet raspy breaths. Not long ago his son had been admitted to the medicine cat's because he was diagnosed with Green Cough and now that he thought about it, Ryekit had been acting a little odd lately. Well, odd was an understatement. Besides the abnormal coughing and hacking, Ryekit wasn't able to talk like other cats and his legs constantly gave him problems which force Smokepelt to wonder if he'd ever be able to become a full warrior. On top of that, the kit wouldn't let hardly anyone near him besides his mother, Hazefur and because of this, Smokepelt wasn't able to even grow close to his own son.

Letting out a sigh, the deputy sat in solemn silence for what felt like ages until Ryekit woke up in a fit out coughing. Scared out of his pelt from the sudden noise, the grey tom leaned down and licked the small kits head, hoping to give some comfort. "It's alright, everything's going to be okay," he cooed softly, though what he said was a lie as he watched the kit start coughing up blood. Who was he kidding. Between Green Cough and the deformities, this kit wasn't going to make it past Leafbare. As much as he wanted to deny it, all the signs were crystal clear. Ryekit was defective and apparently StarClan wanted to curse him with a son like this and as always, he was at their mercy.

After a few moments, the dark den was engulfed in silence once more looking at his kit, Smokepelt could tell that he wasn't quite asleep yet. With this peaceful time to himself, he thought about what the future might hold for himself, the clan, his son, and though he thought it over for what seemed like a hundred times, he kept coming back to only one solution. Was he really going to let Ryekit suffer in this life anymore? A crippled paw that he could barely walk on, random spasm attacks in his hind legs, and now Greencough? The little kit wasn't going to make it, any sane cat could see that.

Glancing around the den, he soon spotted them; the Deathberries.

Sitting on a leaf almost completely hidden behind other herbs in the very back corner of the den sat four little red berries. Getting up, the tom stabbed a claw into one, making sure not to put it anywhere near his mouth and made his way back over to the small grey tom. Sitting down next to his kit, his heart raced and an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach as he placed the berry in the puddle of blood and vomit that laid in front of Ryekit's mouth that was parted open from his underdeveloped jaw. This was for the best, he was sure of it.

Nudging the berry even closer to the kit's mouth, the tom let out a soft purr and licked the kit's hot, fever filled head. "Eat this little one, everything will be over soon. No more pain, no more suffering, you'll live in a land of stardust and peace, I promise," he mewed softly, tears filling his eyes. How? How could StarClan do this to such a innocent and vulnerable cat? His life had hardly begun and they were already willing to take Ryekit's whole life away from him? Selfish, they were all selfish!

It was an easy day for the middle aged warrior. Easy, but cold. The sun shone bleakly from the sky as Falconstone lead Vulturekit back into the camp. The pair had ventured outside of the dip of the camp in order to play in the snow, at the constant request of his kit. Vulturekit had a way with words and the tom was happy to finally have a family that she got almost everything she wanted. And by almost, it was everything.

As they were playing, Vulturekit had bit his tail so hard that it shocked him, causing him to stumble in the snow and rip his claw. Angrily, Falconstone had ordered his kit back to camp and here they were, Falconstone limping and Vulturekit spewing hate.

"What kind of warrior lets a broken claw stop them!" she hissed. "WindClan is ashamed to have you as a warrior!" Falconstone flicked his ear and tale in annoyance. He said nothing but turned his head back forward as he entered his medicine den to a scene he thought he would never see.

Smokepelt, WindClan deputy, stood above the mangled kit, shoving a Deathberry into the innocent cat's mouth. Pure fury, one that would make his father proud, surged through him. In one large leap the lanky warrior soared through the den and landing square on the older warriors back. The force collapsed the deputy to the ground. "Murderer!" he screached. "How dare you try and kill a kit! First an apprentice! And now a kit. Psychopath!" he hissed, leaning his face down inches in front of his face. "WindClan will know your deeds!" he growled, fury burning through him.

Surprised by the voice that boomed from behind him, Smokepelt dropped what he was doing to see Falconstone. Before he was able to react, the younger tom jumped on his shoulders and he was pushed down to the ground, his jaw hitting the den floor in an awkward position. Wincing from the pain, the deputy let out a hiss, his face pressed against the ground. "What?" He meowed, confused. Psychopath? He hadn't killed anyone yet!

Trying to struggle against Falconstone's weight, it was no use. Looking to Ryekit who was most likely asleep and in pain, anger started to burn through his veins. How dare he call him a murderer! "Don't you dare call me a murderer!" he screeched. "Do you think I want to kill my own son? I'm only doing what is best for him! He is in pain, suffering! He isn't going to last past Leafbare!" he snapped, craning his neck to look up at the warrior.

"It looks like you want to kill your own kit when you're feeding him Deathberries!" Falconstone let the deputy up, moving his tall frame over the dying kit. Perhaps if the cat doing the killing wasn't Smokepelt, and he wasn't a father, he might have looked away and allowed the kit to pass in somewhat peace, but the truth of the matter was that it was a deputy. He had a kit. If Smokepelt could maim an apprentice and kill his own kits, StarClan knew what would happen when he became leader. With sudden remembrence, Falconstone swatted the quiet-for-once Vulturekit. "Vulturekit, leave." he ordered, his eyes not leaving Smokepelt's. "Go get Ashstar. Tell her that her deputy was attempting to kill his own kit."

Falconstone barred his teeth, his spine fur bristling and only now did he notice. "Resign now, Smokepelt, before I tell the clan what you have done." his eyes narrowed as Ryekit heaved below him. "You should feel disgusted with yourself. Ashstar was a fool to put a murder as her deputy! Even an apprentice would be a better choice! At least Furzepaw wouldn't kill a kit and maim an apprentice!" his eyes burned with a fury that would make his father proud. He swatted the Deathberries toward Smokepelt. "You eat them! You wanted to feed them to your son, so it's cool, right?" It took everything in the warrior to not shred the deputy.

Feeling the weight lift from him, Smokepelt sprung up and stood across from Falconstone who was blocking him from Ryekit who didn't seem to be doing so hot.

Listening to the warrior speak, he stood his ground, fur bristling and teeth bared. He was going to snap back at Falconstone's comment about him resigning when Furzepaw's name stuck out of the statement like a soar paw. "How dare you bring my kit into this!" he spat, anger boiling through his veins. "You leave my family out of it! I'm not a murderer, I only want whats best for my kits! If you can't see that, then you're nothing but a mousebrained fool!" he hissed, ears flat against his head and tail lashing back and forth. As the berry rolled towards him, he smacked it away with his paw, sending it flying across the den. "You're nothing but a mousefodder!" the older tom hissed, clawing the ground with his claws as the two stared at each other, gazes locked.

Hearing some shuffling at the medicine cat entrance, he looked to see Vulturekit leave the den. No! She wasn't going to tell Ashstar lies, she just couldn't! Running past the warrior, the deputy raced after the kit, his heart beating fast.

OOC: End of topic.