QuillClan //The curse of Stars and No Stars.

Death of a close friend.

He shivered against a cold gust of wind that blew against his fur. He wish he hadn't stormed out of camp like that. He wouldn't be long though, maybe just a quick hunt, then he would head back.

RoseClaw and BlackDove made their way into his mind and he growled to himself, thinking about what they had said, "Rouges are ferocious felines that should never be accepted into a clan. Let alone become deputy."

Surely they were just jealous? Right? He shook his thoughts away and tracked further into the forest. The scent of leafbare sneaked into the air. Soon the clan would be struggling for prey. Snowclan on the other paw would not, they had some of the best hunting skills for cold weather.

He could scent a mouse in the distance and slowly followed the scent trail, across rocks and through brambles. Finally he spotted his target and crouched, creeping forward on silent paws.

Nearing the mouse now, he parted his jaws, letting the mouses scent drift into his mouth. It felt as if had already caught it. Realizing he hadn't ate today he thought this would be a nice catch. The prey pile was getting closer to running out every day as prey hid in their burrows and dens.

Bunching up his legs he pounced on the morsel, snapping its neck with a swift bite. He picked up his fresh kill triumphantly and trotted to a small den made out of tree roots.

With a few bites he ate the mouse, then began to groom his pelt, tongue over fur. His grey fur stood out against the brown and green surroundings and he kept his senses alert for prey or anyone who was nearby. The last thing he wanted was company.

After a while, he got up, shaking out his fur. He shivered at another gust of cold wind that pelted his fur. He began to walk out of the den when he heard a terrified shriek. His fur bristled as his head shot up, he perked his ears to listen. Another bloodcurdling shriek erupted, sending birds flying away.

Instantly, he bounded in the direction, leaping over dead logs and bushes, the wind blowing past him as if to stop him from going. He pushed forward, stepping into a dark clearing. He looked around, walking quietly forward. The scent of death overwhelmed him and made his fur stand up.

"Hello?" He meowed, pricking his ears.

"H-help..!" He heard a barely audible voice speak, he thought for a moment.

Could this be a trap? Am I walking to my death? He shook away the thoughts and made his way to a dark furred tabby. She was barely breathing.

"F-Frost?" He recognized a rogue who had lived with him when he was a rogue.

He ducked down before glancing around. "Goose, who did this to you?" He asked softly, noticing several wounds on the she-cats throat.

A gurgling noise was the only thing he heard when she tried to speak. "No, never mind don't talk save your breath. Your going to be alright." He knew she was going to die soon, those wounds were deep, he didn't have to be a medicine cat to realize that.

"S-op." He guessed she was trying to say "stop," although it wasn't easy to understand.
"I won't l-iv." She said slowly, clearly having a hard time speaking.

"I guess even I can't convince you, huh?" He tried, a small smile escaping him as tears fell down his snout as he stared down at the She-cat.

She managed to shake her head, erupting into a series of spasms. She opened her eyes weakly. "S-shadows. I s-saw shadows." She said and he shivered, feeling his fur bristle.

"Do you know who did it? Who were they? Why did they do this to you?!" He yelped, furiously.

"I-" she managed before gasping, a gush of blood escaped from her wounds, he saw her eyes glaze and she went limp.

"Goose wake up." He growled, shaking the body lightly. "Goose.. wake up!" He was practically yelling now, feeling his whole body shake.

She can't be dead. No, she can't be! He thought to himself, pressing his nose into her bloody fur. Goose had been there for him when he had left the life of a rogue, she had never tried to stop him. She was a really good friend of his, and now she was dead.

He looked around furiously, tears streaming down his face. A small shape stood there in the shadows. "You! Come out here in the open!" He snarled, baring his teeth. He couldn't make out a scent of the cat over the scent of Goose's corpse.

Shadows. He thought of what Goose had said with a shiver.

"FrostedSnout?" The cat spoke and stepped out of the shadowed area. "Are you alright?" They asked, glancing down at Goose's body with a concerned look.

"I-I'm alright.." he said, seeing that the cat was just SwanFeather.

"Who is that?" She asked, motioning to Goose.

"A-an old friend.." his voice shook as he spoke.

"Oh, what happened?" She asked, hurrying to her.

"I don't know." He would admit, feeling his head droop. If only SwanFeather was here earlier, then maybe Goose would be alive now.

"She is dead. I'm sorry FrostedSnout."

"Tell me something I don't know." He snapped suddenly, thrashing further into the woods, further away from SwanFeather. Away from Goose's corpse. He felt his paws drop from under him as he curled up and screamed into his fur. She wouldn't understand. He thought.

SwanFeathers family was still alive, her mother, StormFoot, an elder. Her siblings, TurtleDusk and BeeStep were warriors in the clan. SwanFeather couldn't possibly know what he felt.

He didn't even know his family. They left him to die as a rogue. Then he met Goose, who had helped him learn to survive. They had done everything together. When he left to join QuillClan, he felt as if he would never see her again, but he did, he saw her again alright, and on her death bed. Goose is dead now, and I couldn't do anything about it but watch her suffer and die. He thought bitterly.

Hearing SwanFeather hollering his name in the distance he crawled under a bush like a scared kit and managed to drift off. I'm pathetic, he thought, before falling into dreams, memories, about his life as a rogue.