[Deleted]

    Smokefur had done everything she could to ensure she could meet her fellow medicine cats, the weather had been nothing less than devastating and she needed support from her peers. She had an escort of only one warrior as she didn't expect to be in any danger barring the weather, in the medicine cats mind it seemed foolish to put more than one warrior in danger as additional numbers wouldn't guarantee any more safety. She had given additional instructions to the cat guarding the entrance of Nightclans' camp, if they hadn't returned in a reasonable amount of time a small rescue patrol was to be sent to retrieve them. Her escort had also been instructed to leave scent markings along their path so the patrol would have an easier time tracking them if something went wrong. After Smokefur and Cinderstep had eaten as much as they dared with the prey shortage they exited camp and began to cut their way through the snow.

    Smokefur was thankful she had made the journey many times prior to this night, it made navigation easier when the snow that covered the forest made everything look the same. The medicine cat began to suspect their efforts would be in vain, they had only made it partially through their own territory and Smokefur could feel the cold deep in her core. She made the executive decision only a few moments after this realization, turning to Cinderstep she uttered through chattering teeth "Let's go back, we won't make it to the moon tree alive..." The small patrol followed the path they had cut previously making their return slightly easier, and when they returned to camp the guard seemed not at all surprised they hadn't made it to the meeting. Usually Smokefur would have conversed with her curious and eager clanmates about her meeting before returning to her secluded den, however tonight none seemed interested. This suited the medicine cat just fine as she silently entered the warriors den and curled up with the first warrior she saw.

[Hellion]

Swanfeather

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Her muzzle had nudged the sickly form of Silverfish. The young warrior only to still find him slightly feverish. Despite Ottersplash's help she still found it difficult to break the fever. If it didn't happen soon the warrior's life was at stake.

She placed more herbs besides him and ventured out to find something half decent to feed him with. Most herbs could make them even more sickif taken on an empty stomach. However, considering the recent moon of hunting there wouldn't be much for him.

Exiting her den she found the camp still lightly frozen with a layer of ice. She had to use her claw to add traction. It would remain one major downfall to living in such a damp territory. The prey pile was low even by past leaf comparision. Her heart ached for those who would go without a meal tonight, Silverfish needed it more then they did to make it until Newleaf.

A glanace toward the leader's den had the medicine cat feel even colder. Razorstar's death was still recent in her memory and made looking there difficult. As she picked up the small fish she found the half-moon in the sky. She had made the choice earlier in the day not to make the trip to Moon Tree.

She felt her duties were more important, the life of her fellow clanmate was worth more than her connection with StarClan.

Her ancestors had betrayed her in some many ways. First Frostfang, then her two apprentices and now Razorstar. So much death had filled her life. Her faith in StarClan had been rocked down to its very foundation and it would take more then a happy newleaf to fix it.

Returning back to her den she whispered praise to Silverfish to encourage the young cat to eat the herbs and fish. Her attention returning to her thoughts about the living instead of concerning herself with the dead.
SPEECH

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all the lights are misty in the river
In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight
And all I see is him and me forever and forever
And I know it's only in my mind

Word Count:: ---
Tag::@insertname
Notes:: Amber is next but if she doesn't reply by 1/21/2016 then Fawn is next.

[Fawn]

⇒Medicine Cat of LightningClan⇐

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The feeble coughs sputtered from dying lungs were like music to the tom's ears. Oh, how he preferred his Clanmates when they were full of mucus and empty of hope; they were so much more tolerable on their deathbeds then at any other time in their lives. Make no mistake, the jet black healer would tend to them to the absolute chiefest of his many medical talents, but there would always be a tiny sliver of displeasure when the cat recovered enough to leave the den. To join the throng of irritating sheep Rookfrost was forced to live with day in and day out.

My, how you've grown irascible in your old age. Ironically, he had never enjoyed anything more than he did this leafbare. It was perfectly suited to his lifestyle. The tom ate out of necessity, out of proper maintenance of self (and to prevent dehydration, muscular atrophy and then organ failure), but with LightningClan's usual abundance of prey nowhere in sight, Rookfrost had little rhyme or reason to leave his den anymore. He could maintain his seclusion and throw himself into his work, letting the high fever of fascination be the fuel he needed to stay on his paws.

In situations as dire as these, the black tom did not shrivel, did not shirk.

He thrived.

"Chew. Slowly." The medicine cat ordered, and watched as an unremarkable tom leaned forward to feebly bring his teeth around the chickweed, grinding up the herbs as best he could. Rookfrost did not linger to ensure the plant was properly ingested; if the cat didn't want to die, then he would eat it. Simplicity itself. Instead, black paws carried him to the side of a tiny white she-kit, curled up pathetically in the corner of the sick-den.

Rookfrost lowered his nose to her flank, though he could feel the heat coming off of the she-cat's body even before his nose came in contact with the dulled pelt. Her fever had yet to break. The medicine cat's ears swiveled forward, latching on to the unexpected result of treatment; she had been given what was left of his catmint stores (Rookfrost had long ago learned that kits, apparently, the most useless aspect of Clan functionality, took precedence when it came to saving lives. How LightningClan had survived their own sentimentality and not collapsed on themselves was beyond his comprehension). Why her fever remained unbroken, Rookfrost was intent upon finding out.

Not just find out, however. He fully intended to see the kitten survive. Even if the blood that coursed through her veins was worth the same as fox dung. Rookfrost left the den, the icy pools of his eyes sweeping coldly across LightningClan's camp. They knew he was in a fervor. What they mistook for high productivity was actually a high, of sorts, but Rookfrost was content to mask it behind disciplined concern.
"You." He flicked an ear at Russetfall. "Gather enough moss to hold a she-kit."

Russetfall—if that was, in fact, his name (Rookfrost tended not to keep track of these things)—looked at him and frowned. "Everything's covered in snow. And Firestar wants to know when you're leaving for the Medicine Cat meeting."

Meeting? It was rare that anything should slip the tom's mind, particularly if it pertained to maintaining his well-crafted cover as a loyal, orderly medicine cat of LightningClan. In wake of the sickness sweeping through LightningClan, it had been lost in the churning nebula of a very busy mind; too busy for trivial little things such as a meeting among his peers.

Rookfrost replied with a sharp tongue, though his mind thrummed with satisfaction. "Yes, obviously. You'll have to dig." And as for the meeting, the jet black tail twitched at the tip. "Does it look like I have time? StarClan can wait." Indefinitely.

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No wealth no ruin no silver no gold. Nothing satisfies me but your soul.

Word Count: 638 Words
Tags: @littleflower , @ghostlight (Not sure who is next)