Chapter 41-

Warning: mild mentions of suicide, not intended. 

Flickerfire feels mud coating his paws, the scent of rot thick on his tongue. The breeze in the Dark Forest is almost non-existent, yet somehow the scent of suffering and iron coats the murky world. 

Flickerfire scans the place, eyes wide. He isn't dead, so someone must be here to meet him. 

Flickerfire isn't as terrified of this place as he should be. By default, he'll be banished here, right?  He hasn't exactly...welcomed Starclan in the last few moons, had he? In fact, he'd seen Mantisstar and Funnelstar many times in the past few nights. He'd woken in the Dark Forest a few nights in a row, Mantisstar and Funnelstar ready to speak, but Flickerpaw had closed his eyes and fallen back into the dark black void of sleep. Real, dreamless sleep. 

Flickerfire could do that now, but this is different. Mantisstar and Funnelstar are missing, and the only thing left is the murky, dim-lit, terrain. 

The tom is confused. 

The whisps of wind pull Flickerfire's pelt gently, and the tom blinks at the dark terrain. Okay. What now? 

"A murderer..."  Flickerfire freezes, cold uneasiness seeping into his bones. The tom freezes, ears straining to hear. He can't. The wind is silent, the rotting trees sitting still. Flickerfire knows he heard something, he won't deny that, but what, exactly?  Flickerfire pricks his ears, waiting. 

"...hiding behind a holy title..." 

Flickerfire pauses. He knows this message. The memories of death, of the lack of air, of the icy cold water seeping into his fur, all rush back like Riverclan's river. The voice continues faster, louder, than before. 

"One that cannot be shaken..." 

Flickerfire knows the next line. 

"A path that cannot falter..." 

Flickerfire feels a recognition blossom inside him, a certainty that wasn't there before. How could he be so oblivious to such an obvious omen? 

"He cannot be fixed..." 

The voice is loud, demanding, chasing away all the doubt Flickerfire has instilled in his mind. 

"Only killed." 

                                                                      ~~~

Flickerfire wakes in his nest, eerily cold. Tumblecry's nose touches his spine, even in the darkness. It's been a nervous habit, Flickerfire supposes. The tom used to wake up with dreams of Aloestar, unidentified claws tearing her throat open, and he wake sobbing and wailing. Tumblecry had stayed close, her nose a constant comfort, unwavering support amidst the shadows of depression. 

The night is cold and dark, a blanket of uneasiness wrapped around camp. The smell of Riverclan cats is sharp and almost disgusting, but the smell of blood and injury is way worse. The cats had flocked to the medicine cat's den, and now the den was overflowed with sloppily patched up cats. Thunderclan doesn't have the herbs for this, and Flickerfire had mostly been in the forest yesterday, searching for any herbs or cobwebs he could find. Thank Starclan it's green leaf, however, and the herbs weren't hard to find, but still. 

Flickerfire doesn't quite have the energy to leave his nest, his eyes pinned to the many injured sleeping cats. In his mind, he imagines many more bodies, not just sleeping. Their bodies, leaking blood, their eyes, open and frozen. At the top of it all, grinning ear to ear, is Sagestar. 

                                                                    ~~~

Sagestar wakes in the morning with the smell of Webkit, fishy and river-smelling, coating the den. The tom blinks his green eyes open, seeing a familiar black shape blended with the dim light. A pair of little dark green eyes stare down at Sagestar, almost unnervingly so. 

"W-Webkit?" Sagestar stammers sleepily, eyes cracking open, "You're supposed to be sleeping with Fringestrike?" The meeting had worked, to Sagestar's surprise, and Webkit had settled in Fringestrike's nest, Sapkit comfortingly lapping at the black she-kit's ears. Sagestar had thought it was over; the kits and queen looked comfortable enough, not being hostile whatsoever. Even now Webkit doesn't look scared or unnerved, just stoic, with her head raised high. 

"I know." 

"So why-" 

"Cause it's cold in the nursery! Why'd you abandon me there?" Webkit huffs sassily, sitting on her flicking tail, "Let me sleep here." Sagestar narrows his eyes. 

"No. You can't sleep in here unless you're my kit," the thought sparks something in Sagestar, but he shoos the feeling away. No. His successor can't be a she-kit. He'd have to find another kit. Not Webkit though, the snappy she-kit who sounds just a bit too much like Smoothpearl. He'd find another kit. Sometime. Right now, he can't get too attached to Webkit. 

Is the kit already too attached to me? 

"Well-" Webkit starts, her head held high. 

"Don't lie to me. It isn't cold in the nursery. It's green leaf. It's warm, especially if you share a nest. Go back, Webkit," Sagestar flicks his tail, "Now."  Webkit huffs, tail flicking and talk bristling. Her little teeth are bared. Sagestar stares back, eyes cold and dangerous. The she-kit turns with a tiny growl. Her tail disappears through the crack in stone. 

                                                              ~~~

Flickerfire hates the cold feeling in his chest that weighs his whole body down. His body is raging in heat, the green leaf sun only making it worse and worse, melting Flickerfire's fluffy fur. He wants to leave, to walk to the river and drink, drink, drink, until his stomach is as heavy as the tom's head feels. 

Flickerfire is sick. 

"Drink this," Tumblecry instructs, pushing the ball of moss towards Flickerfire. It drips with water, dampening the stone ground. Flickerfire almost recoils. He'll puke. 

"N-No. C-Can I move to the back of the den? I'm burning..." 

"It's not very hot out, Flickerfire," Tumblecry's eyes are swamped with worry, "Drink. You should know you need it." Flickerfire's brain says he should drink, Starclan, he'd wanted to drink river water just seconds ago! But as he smells the fresh scent of moss, his stomach heaves and he wants to throw up it's contents on the stone. He holds back. 

"Starclan, the medicine cat is getting sick, we're all going to die," Flickerfire hears a cat mutter, and a few others murmur in agreement. The white tom turns to stare at the injured cats, but he can't use anymore of his energy to think of a retort, so he shrinks into his nest with a wince of pure anguish. 

"Not drinking, Tumblecry...use it on..." Flickerfire trails off to suck up more air, glaring at the moss ball of water like it'd been the one to kill Aloestar. The thought hurts Flickerfire and also makes him want to laugh. They don't know what had slaughtered Aloestar yet but it sure wasn't the river water. 

"Starclan, Flickerfire. You think you know what it takes to feel better, being a fully trained medicine cat, but let me refresh you. It takes liquids and rest. Full stomachs. So pick one. Drink until you're full or eat until you're full. Which one?" Tumblecry is clearly losing patience, her pelt bristling. Under the clear annoyance in Tumblecry's eyes, Flickerfire can see the concern rocketing through them too. 

"Well," Flickerfire mutters. She's right, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. "Um. W-Water." The prey would make him puke solids up, way worse than just water. Flickerfire tentatively sticks his tongue out, slowly slurping up it's liquid. The water is cool and refreshing, and the tom almost appreciates it. Almost. He appreciates the liquids until they come streaming from his jaws. 

Gross. 

He was right. 

Tumblecry frowns. "Well hopefully some of it went down," she hums thoughtfully, turning to look at the rapidly brightening sky, "It'll be a nice day at least." Nice day? Flickerfire feels like the sun is pure lava, rays of heat specifically targeting his pelt. The tom shoots a glare at Tumblecry for daring to say that. Sure, she can't feel the pure fire beneath his skin, but still. She should know. 

"Tum...Tumblecry?" A small voice squeaks timidly, and Tumblecry turns her gaze quickly to a frail looking apprentice. The tom evokes a sharp pang of emotion within Flickerfire, so he turns his head and shuts his eyes. Flickerfire remembers the tiny, happy, words of Echokit right before Sagestar had arrived to see little motionless Blossomkit. 

"We're here!" 

Flickerfire winces as Echokit, no, he must be Echopaw by now, keeps on talking. "May I...take a walk to the nursery? I need to...to make sure Webkit is okay," the tom asks politely, "Please." Flickerfire flattens his ears, the memories flooding back. The river's wet sand had swallowed that poor kit, and now Flickerfire is about to swallow her brother. Shut. Up. 

It's not fair, not really, to hate the tom's voice, or even think of him lowly because of the memories he shares with Flickerfire, but the tom can't help it. 

"Oh. Sure," Tumblecry nods, casting a confused look at Flickerfire's agitated stance, "I'm sure she's alright, though." Echopaw nods, his fur bristling. It's constantly that way. Is that was death does to a cat. Flickerfire can relate, so he nods to the tom. Echopaw's eyes flash with recognition, and he smiles slowly. He knows, and so does Flickerfire. 

"I know you're sick but...can you come?" Echopaw suddenly asks, his eyes hopeful and his face smooth. Tumblecry frowns slightly. 

"Well-" 

"I can try," Flickerfire draws his aching body up, shaking moss off his pelt. His vision is blurred and his head is definitely about to explode, but he still stands. Tumblecry places a supporting tail on the tom's back. 

"Lay down," the gray she-cat orders sternly. Flickerfire frowns. Well, it's more like a stubborn pout, but the tom does not fold under Tumblecry's smooth voice. 

"I don't... I'm fine, Tumblecry, really," the tom mutters, stretching his painful joints, "You're not my mommy."  Echopaw looks uncomfortable as Tumblecry bristles at the sharp insult. 

"You'll get some cat sick," the she-cat says slowly, angrily, "You could get your nieces and nephews sick." Flickerfire flicks his tail dismissively. 

"I won't even look at anyone too hard," the tom says with a roll of his eyes, "It'll be okay." Tumblecry huffs, her eyes dangerous. 

"Rest. It'll do you good," the she-cat says firmly, "Echopaw, I'm sure Flickerfire-" 

"I'm going," Flickerfire snarls, annoyed, pushing past Tumblecry to stand next to Echopaw. He's kept his promise, his eyes are trained on Tumblecry and not the tiny frail looking tom, and he is careful not to cough or sneeze or even sniffle while looking at the tom. Tumblecry seems to still be seething, but she only lets out a tiny growl. 

"Fine... I swear you get one of those kits sick it could be a death sentence, you know that?" the she-cat huffs. Flickerfire nods stiffly. 

"They won't get sick." 

"Hopefully."

Flickerfire feels weak and unstable but most of all he feels annoyed at his mentor. Who does she think she is? His mother? No, he has no mother now. So why must Tumblecry act like he's a naughty apprentice confined to camp? 

Flickerfire sighs, flicking his tail at Echopaw. "Let's walk." 

Flickerfire narrows his eyes at the bright sunlight pouring from the sky, looking down at his paws. Echopaw shuffles uncomfortably. Flickerfire is just uncomfortable, his head pounding and his legs wobbly like kit paws. Sickness over takes him, and Flickerfire just feels awful. His vision blurs. "Echopaw? What did you want to speak about?" Echopaw blinks. 

"Um," the tom says slowly, "Were you...there at the fire?" 

"Of course," Flickerfire says instantly, "Every cat was." His paws scuttle over the sandy ground of Thunderclan camp. He remembers it well, the pain, the grief over a kit he'd only spoken to once. The packed sand of the river, holding the she-kit's little tiny body. The closing of her eyes, the slowing of her breathing. The death. 

"Can you...tell me... the story...with the tree...and the storm?" 

Flickerfire doesn't know that one. That isn't right. He should know it, he should. For Blossomkit. Smoothpearl's kits should grow up knowing the tale. They should know it like Blossomkit does, up in Starclan. They should ask for it, like Blossomkit did, down on Earth. 

Flickerfire will make sure of it. 

"Well...yeah," Echopaw sighs. They're almost at the nursery, which is a few paces away. "But...I had a sister. Blossomkit. She died." The apprentice says it too clearly, no tears even threatening to spill over his eyes. Flickerfire finally looks at the tom, really looks, and he looks distant, sad but not broken, like he should be. "I don't remember her much, just...just playing moss ball and all." Echopaw suddenly stops, eyes narrowing as he stares ahead. 

"She died first, but I paid for it." 

Flickerfire flinches, and he now stares at Echopaw. He should feel angry, but curiosity burns beneath his skin. "Why...?" 

"I was the one that got ignored by Pondscour because I 'wasn't like my sister.' I got screamed at for asking where 'my sissy' was. I was a kit. I didn't know. I didn't remember," Echopaw spits, "But I do remember you. You were crying. Why? You didn't know my sister. You didn't know me. You still don't. But you saved me. You tried to save her, at least." 

Flickerfire blinks. Sure, he did. He doesn't know why he did it, not really, but he can guess. Why let kits die, if there was a way to stop it? In a way, did that mindset make him a good cat? 

Probably not. 

But there is also Pondscour. She must've been mad with grief, but that was, is, no excuse. No kit deserves that. In no circumstance. Flickerfire imagines a cowering Echokit, blood on Pondscour's paws, Echokit's tiny wince and whimper. And he can't stand it. He imagines Snapstar in Pondscour's place, Maplekit in Echokit's, Maplekit's big eyes wide, her mouth open, blood pouring from a cut on her throat. Way more gruesome. 

Flickerfire feels like vomiting, and not only because of sickness. 

"It isn't your fault, you know?" Echopaw says suddenly, green eyes blinking up at Flickerfire, "That Blossomkit died. She would've died anyways. She was small, you know? Weak, kind of. I think I loved her, though." Flickerfire feels validation, validation that he doesn't deserve, wash over him. Echopaw looks blank, not knowing his words hurt and also feel amazing. 

"Thanks," Flickerfire chokes out, and his head is suddenly pounding again, "Hey...I'm getting kinda dizzy so-" 

"Yeah. I'll say hi to that other queen for you. Flicker... something, right?" Echopaw shrugs, like he doesn't really care all that much. Flickerfire envies his clear numbness so much. 

"Yeah. Flickerfire." 

"Okay," Echopaw looks almost happy, "Thanks for...everything. Though, you didn't need to save me that day. I think I'd be better off dead, ya know?" The tom doesn't sound sad, just like it's a fact, a truth. 

"No you wouldn't," Flickerfire flicks a tail, leaving it at that, "Trust me." 

I've died once. It's not fun. 

Flickerfire pushes back through the crowd, head ducked and tears threatening to spill. His mind hurts, stuffed with thoughts and memories of pure pain and suffering. 

Why me? 

                                                                          ~~~

well hope you enjoyed!! an extra long mostly flick chapter, to make up for the flickerfire deprivation!! do you guys think, regardless of either's actions, sage or flick has suffered more, and in what instances? I love to hear you guy's opinions!! (: