This time, Wolfpaw found himself ankle-deep in mud. His intestines still dangled uselessly underneath him and blood ran down his shoulders in small rivers, but he didn’t feel the pain anymore.
“More?” The medicine cat whispered, his voice hoarse. “What more is there to see? Why am I here?”
No one answered.
The rustling of leaves caught Wolfpaw’s attention. A she-cat staggered from the bushes, blood dripping from a myriad of wounds on her body. He tensed, awaiting the pain, but it never came. Is she not the one I’m going to watch die? Do I only feel the pain if I see it happen? The tom, once more pulled along by a force he couldn’t control, followed the stranger.
The she-cat, despite the blood and missing tufts of fur, was gorgeous. Her fur was soft and the color of a dove’s feathers, her eyes were a lovely green, and her overall shape was pleasing. Even Wolfpaw could appreciate her beauty.
Not too long later, the she-cat arrived at a tree, glanced around furtively, and slipped in. Wolfpaw was dragged in behind her.
In the shadowed little den provided by the tree was a black and white tom inspecting various herbs. Wolfpaw’s heart stopped and he hissed, “Plaguewhisper!” Why wasn’t this she-cat fleeing at the mere sight of the hated medicine cat?
However, unlike the skinny and insane cat Wolfpaw knew, this tom was healthy. His fur was thick and shiny and his eyes glowed with intelligence, not madness.
“Mossfoot,” the she-cat purred as she approached, “I got a bit injured.”
Ah. Realization filled Wolfpaw. This was before he began killing. Mossfoot had once been Plaguewhisper’s name.
Plaguewhisper, or rather Mossfoot, turned to the she-cat and appraised her with calm eyes. “Lilypool. Has the patrol already lost? I thought you would all do better.”
Lilypool’s tail flicked. “I left the battle early.” Her voice was sly and full of self-indulgent pride. “I wanted to spend a bit of extra time with you.” The way her eyes coyly watched Mossfoot and her body brushed his…
She’s in love with him! Wolfpaw was hit with a wave of disgust.
Mossfoot’s eyes were cold and looked right through Lilypool. “Oh, my dear,” his voice was filled with such fake tenderness Wolfpaw almost gagged, “I love your clever little mind. I have just the thing for you…”
Lilypool looked smug as she laid down in Mossfoot’s nest, sprawling out as if it were her own. “Have you found anymore… cures to our little problem? The mistletoe didn’t work like you thought it would.”
Wolfpaw squinted. The tundra had very few plants, but his time with Barkbreath had instilled a memory of the various poisonous plants in the swamp, and mistletoe was one of them. Not deadly, but not good either.
A cold feeling crept through Wolfpaw’s body. For a moment, he just couldn’t believe it. Plaguewhisper was an anomaly, a cat who was so mentally unstable that it was impossible there would be another cat like him.
And yet…
“The giant hogweed is hard to come by,” Mossfoot said as he sorted through his herbs. “Maybe if you would help me more…?”
Lilypool’s lip curled with disgust. “Not a chance. Last time I went herb collecting for you, the poison ivy gave me a rash for a moon and it didn’t even kill Pythonstar. Besides,” her voice became sultry and laced with enough honey that Wolfpaw half expected bees to appear, “you wouldn’t want me to fall sick, would you?”
From Wolfpaw’s vantage point, he could see the way Mossfoot scowled. Lilypool may have been madly in love with the medicine cat, but he was only using her.
Wolfpaw watched as Mossfoot took a pile of leaves and approached Lilypool. “Here. These will ease the pain and stop the infection. Make sure to swallow it all.” He gave the she-cat a sly look. “I’ll lick your wounds to make them feel better after I’m done, alright?”
Lilypool purred in satisfaction and began chewing on the leaves without a second thought. Wolfpaw inspected the herbs, feeling his fur begin to prickle. Those leaves… they looked so familiar to him.
It hit Wolfpaw then. “That’s oleander!” He shouted, trying to swat the leaves away from Lilypool. They went straight through her.
Dazedly, Wolfpaw realized he couldn’t help. “I’m not really here.” He whispered, then slumped. Blood still ran from his body, pooling underneath him. “Am I just here to watch you die?”
Soon, Wolfpaw’s stomach began cramping. A wave of nausea hit him and he vomited up- nothing. His stomach was dangling near his paws, but it still felt as if it was twisting and turning.
“Mossfoot?” Lilypool’s broken, shaky voice drew Wolfpaw’s attention away from the haze of pain. She was staring, wide-eyed, at the medicine cat. “My… my stomach hurts.”
“Is that so?” Mossfoot leaned closer, a sort of crazed interest in his eyes. “What’s happening?”
The look of sheer betrayal and anguish on Lilypool’s face made Wolfpaw’s heartache, despite the fact she had been Mossfoot’s accomplice. “But… but you and I…” the she-cat wheezed and staggered to her paws, “we were supposed to be together-”
Lilypool collapsed on the ground as Wolfpaw felt his heart speed up painfully fast. It felt like his entire chest and belly were seizing now, twitching and heaving. He coughed harshly, feeling chunks of blood and slimy viscera slide up his throat. His heart pounded painfully like he had been running at full speed for an entire day.
Then, intense pain raced through Wolfpaw’s chest and he collapsed, watching as Mossfoot stood over Lilypool’s writhing body. The medicine cat seemed satisfied. Everything darkened once more and Wolfpaw felt every agonizing second as the world faded away.