Searing Haze

Sheepheart smiled as he finished sorting his herbs, then hopped out of the medicine den to stretch his limbs.

A thick snow had flattened the tall, yellow grasses of Ironclan territory, letting him see far into the horizon. It was quiet. Aside from the soft patter of paws on metal from the other dens, not even the wind stirred.

He trotted over to the freshkill pile. At the sight of it, his smile faded. There was nothing but a partially frozen mouse and some half-eaten scraps. Well, only the dawn patrol had been out, maybe they'll find something more later. Sheepheart's scant amount of optimism quickly sizzled out when he felt his stomach cramp with hunger.

A sigh left him in a cloud of white.

"Yeah, tell me about it." Smokechaser laughed. The mousey black tom sat next to him. "I don't think I've eaten a proper meal since two days ago. At least."

He hummed in agreement. Suddenly, he just wanted to crawl back into his bed. It was cold, and his sheepswool bed was warm, and he probably wouldn't find any herbs anyways.

"Speaking of depressing situations, Waspstar wants to talk to us. And Owlshade, of course," Smokechaser grimaced. "Something happened." His joking tone turned hard.

Sheepheart breathed, but the frigid air just felt hollow in his lungs. He didn't know if he could deal with that many more depressing things. "Alright."

He and Smokechaser passed the skinny mouse back and forth, then headed out. Sheepheart padded next to Smokechaser through the frosty grasses.

"Why are we going out camp...?" He stepped over a bit of metalpath.

Smokechaser kept his gaze ahead as he spoke. "Waspstar didn't want anyone to overhear us." His ears pulled back, green eyes thinning. "Said she didn't want to distress our clanmates needlessly. I can't blame her, there's already been enough tragedy as it is."

Smokechaser's stoic expression crumbled for a moment, probably remembering his mate, Breezehop, who had fallen to the epidemic last leafbare.

"We're meeting at the smallbridge."

Sheepheart's stomach rolled with nausea. "Has someone else gone missing?" He whispered.

A few oak trees came into view, marking the start of the small treeplace north of Ironclan camp. Their dark, spidery branches were blanketed with snow. The smallbridge lay hidden amidst them.

"Probably."

The trees offered a bit of shelter from the wind, but when the smallbridge came into view, they both quickly padded towards it. Waspstar and Owlshade were already waiting underneath it.

The smallbridge was made from old and rugged wood. Some parts of it had caved in, and it wasn't wise to walk across it. During newleaf and greenleaf, it was covered with moss and Ivy. Now only the dried husks of plants clung to it. The small stream under it was also frozen over.

The four cats huddled underneath the bridge.

"Sheepheart, I assume Smokechaser filled you in, so I'll be quick." Waspstar said, shaking the snow off her tan pelt. "The less time we spend freezing our paws off the better. Owlshade came across a Marshclan patrol earlier, apparently Larkleap has been missing for four days."

The admission hung heavy in the air.

"That's what," Smokechaser hissed, "the fifth cat? In the last six moons?"

Owlshade's tail thwapped against the ground. "Yeah," she grumbled, "there was Honeybriar and Tallear, both Marshclan."

"Our Beepaw," Waspstar added.

"And... Hayflower. From Hillclan." Sheepheart said, his heart twisting painfully at the words.

Each name felt like another thorn in Sheepheart's chest, but especially the last one. The epidemic had ripped apart each cat's friends and family one by one, over the past eight seasons. This appeared to be something different though. Something else was killing these cats.

Not even their corpses had been found.

"I don't know if the news about it is going to get out at the next gathering," Waspstar said. "If I were Silentstar, I wouldn't want to make myself or my clan look weak. That being said, I wanted you two to know. Keep an eye out for anything strange and don't go out too late at night."

He and Smokechaser nodded.

Waspstar turned to him. "Has Starclan told you nothing?"

Sheepheart wilted under her intense gaze. "I – no, they haven't..."

She huffed, her lips curling to reveal sharp teeth. "And the herb stores, how are they."

"Well, they are not the – not the best... It is the middle of leafbare after all – but I'm collecting all I can find." Sheepheart said.

"Starclan," Waspstar mumbled, "I wish Fogbreath were here."

Sheepheart winced.

"Gather all you can, but don't stay out too long. I can't have my only medicine cat catching frostbite."

"Right..." Sheepheart said.

As much as Waspstar's comment had stung, he couldn't help but agree with her. Fogbreath was a much more competent medicine cat than he was.

Owlshade and Waspstar headed out to try to hunt something before returning to camp. Smokechaser went directly back to camp to train his apprentice. Sheepheart stayed and tried to find some herbs.

If Fogbreath was still medicine cat, and not him, surely less cats would've died. Even after all these moons, the den still felt like hers. Sometimes he even caught a whiff her or her apprentice's scent.

Sheepheart looked behind some brambles, but only uncovered a few blades of brown grass.

He didn't return to camp until his pawpads were blue.