When A Lark’s Wings Fall Off...(OPEN DEATH TOPIC)

Larkfeather felt like he was recovering well from his cough.  He started to wander the camp more, although staying close to the medicine den so he didn’t infect more cats.  He gazed wistfully at the warrior’s den, wishing that he could help the clan instead of being a burden.  If only... he thought as he sat near the medicine den.

Cough.

Nothing bad, he dismissed.  That was my first cough in a long time.

Cough.  Cough.

Still, Larkfeather felt fine.  He was sure that he would be fine, even after recovering from whitecough.  All he needed was some water to wash down his throat and he’d be fine.

Cough.  Cough.  Cough.

Suddenly, Larkfeather was coughing nonstop.  He collapsed onto the ground, not feeling as well as he was only a few heartbeats ago.  The warrior was obviously sick, and the brown tom regretted pushing his recovery. ”H-help...” he bleated, the pain in his chest intensifying. Why did he leave the den? How stupid could he have been?

Honeypaw was padding toward the fresh kill pile, eager to have a meal before perhaps seeing if she could tag along on a patrol or just explore the territory on her lonesome...That was until a cough caught her ear, causing her gaze to shift over toward the medicine cat den. Her heart sank a little at the sight of Larkfeather, aware of how the warrior had been cooped up in the den for a while. She gave a soft shake of her head, continuing her walk...Only for more coughs to echo behind her before suddenly intensifying.

She spun in surprise, seeing Larkfeather sudden collapse as he struggled to regain his footing, a feeble cry for help escaping his lips. Her eyes widen as she broke into a run toward him, not even thinking about the fact that she was risking catching the same sickness. "Mistlepaw!" she cried out, her tail fluffed, praying to StarClan that the medicine cat was around. She slide to a stop, wishing that she knew something to help the tom. Would it pass? It seemed dire and the tom looked terrified as he struggled to breathe. She wanted to pace back and forth but her paws were rooted to the spot as she stood there helpless.

A series of coughs, followed by a cry for Mistlepaw brought Dappleshine running. Her eyes landed on Honeypaw, and then went to the collapsed cat next to her and her heart stopped. Larkfeather was on the ground, coughing as he tried to get breath. She was quickly at his side, looking helplessly down at him. Honeypaw had already called for Mistlepaw.. Yes, perhaps Mistlepaw could help. For now... She'd do what she could. "Honeypaw, dear, can you help me get his legs straight? We can make him comfortable and maybe ease his breathing if we do so while we wait for Mistlepaw." Her paws were shaking as she corrected the tom's limbs, letting him lay on his side without being a crumpled mess. "Hang in there, Larkfeather, Mistlepaw will be here soon and you'll be back to normal in no time! We can patrol like when I was your apprentice again. Just hang tight, okay?"

Just like Dappleshine, the sound of a struggling Clanmate brought Ivybrook to a solid run, coming to a sliding halt at Larkfeather's side. She'd been well aware of how the older warrior had been stuck in Mistlepaw's den with whitecough for a while, but everything seemed like it had been getting better according to Mistlepaw. So now, what was the problem? Ivybrook knew that Mistlepaw was very skilled despite her young age, there was no way she could have missed something as obvious as this... Had Larkfeather been rushing his recovery? As Ivybrook had witnessed before, that could be detrimental... Nevermind the circumstances, Larkfeather needed help, and he needed it bad. "It may be better if Honeypaw backs away a little... Whitecough is highly contagious..." The she-cat grunted as she tried to gently move Larkfeather's back legs. The last thing RiverClan needed was an outbreak of whitecough when leaf-fall was just beginning, and younger cats were much more susceptible to sicknesses that older warriors were. Not only that... But Ivybrook felt as if Honeypaw had been through enough, with the disappearance of her mentor. Witnessing such a horrible occasion (and though Ivybrook didn't want to admit it, a possible death) couldn't be good for her.

Trying to remain calm, Ivybrook stood over Larkfeather helplessly as she waited for Mistlepaw to appear.

Since her previous adventure in RiverClan’s camp, Mudkit had gotten bolder in her excursions and in her arguments with Thistlenose. Today, she’d managed to win more time away from the nursery—time well spent batting around some of the reeds circling the camp. But Mudkit was a kitten and, therefore, not one to be entertained by the same thing for long. She was just getting bored with the reeds when a terrible hacking noise sounded from near the medicine den. It just kept going, even when she turned to stare at it.

Soon, a few of her Clanmates were rushing forward to help the coughing warrior. One of them, an apprentice, called for Mistlepaw. That was their medicine cat, right? Recalling the awful noise the brown-furred tom had made once more, Mudkit decided a medicine cat was exactly what he needed. Clearly something was wrong—but Mistlepaw would fix it. In the meantime… The little calico padded forward, hesitance coloring her posture when she stopped some distance away. Ivybrook had told the apprentice (Honeypaw, apparently) to stay back because of something called “whitecough”; however strong her desire to know what was happening, Mudkit wanted no part of that. ”I want to help, too,” she declared, curious eyes narrowed in Larkfeather's direction, oblivious to the true gravity of the situation.

Heronflight was thinking about if he was declining and if he should retire or stay a warrior for a few more moons. He was thinking this in the warrior den, where there were many cats around. Suddenly, he heard a loud coughing noise. And another, and another. Soon, the camp was filled with this cat coughing. The gray tabby jumped up onto his paws, and dashed outside. He saw Larkfeather coughing, and it was painfully obvious that Larkfeather would not survive this. No, not him, StarClan, why him...[i] he thought. He had lost his best friend, his mate, their kits, his mentor and leader, and now, it seemed like his only remaining son would be the next to go to StarClan. [i]StarClan can be so cruel sometimes... he thought as the gray tabby was standing next to Larkfeather, watching his son die.

Honeypaw's ears perked up at her adopted sister came running up, tail puffed as she listened to Dappleshine's panicked orders. She was about to move, to grab Larkfeather's legs when Ivybrook darted past and ordered her to stay away. Her ears slicked back, eyes widening as she opened her mouth, ready to ague that she wanted to help - that she didn't care if she got sick...But stopped herself, gaze flickering away as her fur prickled in despair.

A young voice caught her attention, glancing at the kit as her heart sank. "I...Mudkit, you should stay away from him," she sighed softly as she managed to find the strength to pad over to the kit, using her tail to brush the she-cat back. "I don't know if there is anything we can..." she drifted off, her voice breaking as despair started to rise in her. Was there truly nothing she could do? She didn't want to watch another Clanmate die in front of her, it was just like with Jaystar all over again! Feeling so helpless and...

Another presence caught her eye, looking up to see the despaired face of Heronflight as he stared helplessly at his dying son. "...Mudkit, come over with me. I think Heronflight could use our help," she whispered as she bent down, nudging the kit in the direction of the warrior. "This is hard for him to see, we should sit next to him so he isn't alone," she said as she brushed past Mudkit, stepping up next to Heronflight as she gently laid her head on his shoulder, purring as loudly as she could in comfort, wishing there was more she could do.

"What is going on?"

The commotion had grown great enough that it reached the little den within the willow tree's roots. Shouldering past the ragged curtain of moss that adorned the entrance, Torrentstar stepped into view. His brown tabby fur was somewhat disorderly from sleep, and his narrowed eyes told of a cat who had not gotten quite enough rest. Nevertheless, his first thought was not of himself. He knew that something was wrong, for he had heard his clanmate's fearful and panicked voices. The first words out of his maw were a demand for information. Without waiting for an answer, he pressed forward to the little huddle that had gathered at the medicine den's entrance. Like an omen of death, violent coughing rattled throughout the small clearing. Larkfeather lay on the ground, a pale shadow of the warrior he had once been. Whitecough had warped his frame, leaving him thin and weak. But beyond the outward ravages, the illness had done something far worse to him on the inside.

Larkfeather was dying. As the realization struck him, Torrentstar released a breath he had not known he had been holding. Another one, leaving them so soon... He was glad of the fact that Honeypaw had already guided Mudkit away. His daughter was no stranger to death, but it was not a sight that he wanted to keep from young cats' eyes. He knelt by the dying warrior's side, lowering his head to Larkfeather's. The thought of contracting the same disease flashed through his mind but did not stop him. Unlike the others, he had nine lives. If he could not use even one of them to comfort a suffering clanmate, what use was he? He pressed his nose to the young tom's head. "Be strong, Larkfeather." He murmured. "You are not alone."

Dappleshine looked up to meet Ivybrook's eyes as she came to help, concern and grief shadowing her eyes once again. What more could these moons bring her in the form of sorrow? She lay at her old mentor's side, keeping him company as she waited for Mistlepaw... Who had still not arrived. Suppressing an irritated hiss at the lack of response, she reminded herself to be patient, perhaps she had stepped out to gather herbs. The poor dear had seen her fair share of sadness, and dealt with her own pain recently. So instead, she lay by Larkfeather's side, looking at Torrentstar as he approached and spoke. Deep in her heart, she knew the same thing everyone else did - Larkfeather was too far gone. He had been on the mend, but the cough had quickly stripped him of the little strength he had gathered and then left him to take his final breaths. Her ears flattened against her head as she looked down at the tom, nearly unrecognizable at this point from the strong warrior he had once been. When would the grief finally end?

”I want to help,” she insisted as Honeypaw gently pushed her further from the scene. However, she didn’t try to reclaim her place. She was too busy trying to unravel the next thing Honeypaw had said, the hopeless expression she’d worn as she’d said it. Everyone got sick sometimes. It wasn’t fun, but time or Mistlepaw always made it better in the end; those terrible-smelling plants Mistlepaw surrounded herself with had a purpose, after all. Except Mistlepaw wasn’t here…

The more she looked at Larkfeather, the thinner he seemed to be under his fur. Mudkit was starting to get a bad feeling about this. She glanced up at Honeypaw, worry crossing her face for the first time. Honeypaw, however, had come up with an idea. One nudge was all it took. Before Honeypaw could move her again, Mudkit hurried the rest of the way on her own, sitting beside—but not quite touching—the old gray warrior. Despite her and Honeypaw's presence, he looked as distraught as he had when he’d been standing alone. This…didn’t feel like help. Mudkit gave Heronflight a quick bump with her shoulder, as if that could change anything.

Mistlepaw returned from a solo herb patrol, various leaves dangling from her jaws. As she padded into camp, she heard this terrible coughing, soon followed by the worried murmurs of her clan. Distressed, she quickened her pace, and paused briefly at the crowd that had formed near the center of camp. Her eyes narrowed as she pushed through the gathered cats, grunting in irritation, until she finally reached the front. There, she saw Larkfeather, coughing horribly on the ground. Her eyes widened in shock, and the herbs promptly fell from her mouth as she gazed at him in horror. What had happened?! His condition was finally becoming stable and now..now, here he was, laying on the sandy floor, practically coughing to death. It didn't take a medicine cat to know that he was too far gone. He looked half-dead already. Tears pricked at her eyelids as she shook her head in denial. No, Riverclan had already lost too many lives. They weren't prepared to lose another. She wasn't prepared to lose another. "Back up, everyone! Give him and Heronflight some room!" she hissed, head bumping the nearest cat backwards gently, but firmly. She raced into her den and to her herb supply. Her eyes scanned the various herbs, and finally landed on poppy seeds. She scooped up one or two and ran back into the clearing. Her yellow-green eyes refused to meet anyone else's as she nudged the seeds towards him, and coaxed him to eat them. It would help him sleep and..hopefully make his passing much more quicker and painless. Perhaps, her clanmates would not be able to see that, but it was clear what she had to do. He was too far gone. Using precious herbs on him would be a waste. Her visage was blinded by tears as she whispered a final goodbye to the tom.

"You..you were an amazing cat, Larkfeather. May Starclan welcome you into their eternal paradise. Rest easy, okay?" she inhaled sharply, unable to hold back her emotions, "i-if..if you see my mom, Hailsong, please say hi to her. And that I miss her everyday, so much."

Her cheeks were wet and her voice broke as she stepped back to give the father and son some time to say goodbye. Another life she couldn't save. What kind of medicine cat was she?

Mistlepaw finally arrived, and quickly ran to her den. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she whispered gently into her mentor's ear. "Mistlepaw is coming, and she's bring you herbs to help. You'll be better in no time, don't worry." The medicine cat apprentice hissed at the gathered cats, and Dappleshine blinked in shock. Surely she understood her presence, and she was out of the way... Heronflight was off to the side, with Honeypaw and Mudkit. Mistlepaw then came out of her den, setting the herbs down before him....

Wait. Those weren't herbs. Those were poppy seeds.

She looked from the poppy seeds to Larkfeather to Mistlepaw, and felt the fur on her back bristle. Was she going to do nothing to try to help? Poppy seeds?! What would they do, put him to sleep so he would choke on his coughs? If he even kept them down that was - he might not even be able to swallow! As she opened her mouth to question the decision, she stopped herself. Maybe there was something else poppy seeds did that she didn't know about. Maybe they were perfect for this. She certainly had no clue.

However, Mistlepaw's hushed words confirmed her initial thoughts. The medicine cat apprentice was fully aware that her mentor was dying, and instead of attempting to fight it she was just... Sending him on his way? She stared at the she-cat in shock and dismay, anger flickering in the depths of her blue eyes under it all. How dare she not fight for Larkfeather's life, after all he had done.

Larkfeather felt... empty. Emptier than he had ever felt. He knew what was going to happen. His clanmates knew what was going to happen. Mistlepaw, the medicine cat apprentice, knew what was going to happen, and she gave the brown tom poppy seeds to aid the suffering. How easily he could have lived longer, if he only focused on getting better than trying to get out and run again. He opened his mouth and swallowed the small seeds. Larkfeather closed his eyes one last time as he fell into an eternal sleep.