Starve

Magpieflight lay still on the ground, unable to ignore the hollowness inside his belly. He chewed loosely on a long tussock of straw, taking up all the space in the favourite spot of camp - the Wilted Tree - which represented how everyone in BushClan was feeling right now. Or for eternity, Magpieflight added silently in his thoughts. He rolled over, exposing his once-soft, but now incredibly thin belly. The kits of BushClan were now too tired and starved to count the ribs jutting through the skins of every warrior.

At this point, it was so much more than an emptiness. A void was in his stomache, a concave. It was more than mere "hunger" - it was famine. It consumed Magpieflight from the inside out, and it occupied most of his daily thoughts. He couldn't think of anything else.

The starvation was slowly tearing Magpieflight apart.

He slowly got up, his black and white fur crimpled and matted from fitful sleep. He felt light-headed, which would have been odd back in the day, but it was an every day "norm" now. Magpieflight stumbled around camp, longing for the elegance and grace that his gait once carried. But that was no more. Not since the famine struck.

There was the constant gnawing at his insides and through his bones, the starvation had not only stripped away his coordination but his hope, faith, and it was quite possibly eating into his heart by now.

Magpieflight's green eyes glazed over, and after a few steps, he crumpled to the ground in pain and out of lack of stamina. The glazed gaze of his caught on movement beneath the trees, and his nostrils flared at the heavy stench of an unusual, different smell - none other than meat. But it wasn't fresh-kill - if so, that would be an absolute miracle - Magpieflight staggered up onto his feet and padded forward.

The black and white furred tom banged into many trees and was flung into many bushes, his rough, stiff paws skidding on sharp stones and pebbles. Suddenly, he retched, the aroma catching in his throat. Magpieflight recoiled in disgust at the sight of the source of the awful smell - a freshly dead cat laying half on his back and half on his side. It was a light ginger tabby tom that Magpieflight recognised as Stoatcloud.

Stoatcloud's blood-stained jaws were gaped open into a wide, panicked yowl, and his hazel eyes were dull and glazed over. His legs were stiff and raised in the air, claws outstretched, as if he died defending himself. The disturbing thing were how deep Magpieflight could see into his body through the skin - bones poking through and muscle stretching too long across his limbs. The horrible smell grew thicker and stronger, and seeing his friend dead was like cat claws tearing open his throat. Magpieflight tried to cough to clear the fresh whiff of death from his chest and throat, but instead it caught on his windpipe.

Magpieflight's throat was sore, rough and raw from disuse. He was always quite the ambivert - silent yet quite the talker, who liked to work with others, but too much attention from others would drain energy from him. Energy that he no longer possessed. Magpieflight gagged, spitting out bile, a thin line of drool hanging from his chin.

Then, rustling. Magpieflight looked up slowly, which would've been fear, but the emotions were sucked out of him like a tornado. Ever since the famine struck. A calico she-cat slipped through the drooped branches, who Magpieflight recognised as Firepool. A look of true horror was on her face, and her once pretty face was sunken in and her bones were there, visible and as clear as daylight, peeking out through her clumped, unkempt fur.

Dismay dawned at Magpieflight's few emotions left as he realised that blood stained the fur around Firepool's mouth, and when she opened her mouth to explain, Magpieflight spotted the fresh blood glistening on her teeth.

"I know," Magpieflight said, his mew thin and hoarse. What a shame - he quite liked Firepool, and hoped to have her as a mate one day, even have one or two litters with her... But that day would never come. Not since famine struck. Magpieflight's heart clenched with pain and yearning as Firepool blundered forward, clambering over blindly as if she had no sense of sight. Her thorn-sharp claws gleamed in the faint sun, and slowly opened her mouth into a strange grin. Firepool finally muttered,

"Come to me, join with me, and we can live a happily ever after... Together!" flecks of stale spit flew from her mouth as she spoke, and the white, ginger and black furred she-cat's mouth moved unnaturally as she spoke, as did her cheeks and jaws. Magpieflight raised his chin confidently and told the she-cat,

"Tinypool, this is what the hunger has done to you. You are in a state similar to myself, and it isn't just your body that has starved... Famine has starved your mind and your morals, your sense of what's right and what's wrong." His voice shook and rose into little squeaks like a sick kit as he spoke. The calico growled, flashes of fury burning furiously in her lemon yellow eyes like wildfire.

"I will get you!" She howled, poisonous voice filled with rage. It sounded like soothing honey seeping through Magpieflight's ears, but it also dripped with a viper's venom at the same time. It made him sick. So, he turned tail and ran.

It wasn't really running, however. His legs were weak, and then he collapsed on the hard floor, body hitting the ground. Magpieflight grimaced with pain as his ribs took the harsh blow, no fat there to cushion him and even possibly protect him. He knew that Firepool was hard on his tail, and so he crawled across the tough forest floor and leaf litter desperately, dragging his wobbling body to the bushes, hidden from Firepool who let out a blood-curdling shriek as a sickening crack sounded. Whatever had happened to her was unknown to Magpieflight.

The bush wasn't much of a hiding place, he didn't even need one anymore. It's been too much, he thought. ''The exhaustion, the starvation... ''Magpieflight lay on his side, fighting for breath, weak, so weak. But despite the inevitable looming death ahead of him like a towering tree full of thorns, he felt joy the first time in weeks.

Ahead of him lay a freshly-killed magpie. It was huge, the plumpest bird he had ever seen in his entire life. More importantly, it was the only piece of food he had seen in forever. ''Even if I die along the way, I can still make sure I get this prey back to BushClan camp soon. We will be free. ''

I swear to StarClan I will not fail.