Tw: themes of death, sickness)) Rippleballad lay still in the medicine cat den, breathing ever so softly. Just a few weeks ago, she had gotten whitecough—it wasn’t too bad, just some coughing and a sore throat. But just a few days ago, it had developed into a much, much worse case of greencough. Now she was almost certainly going to die. The realization struck her like a lightning bolt—at first. But as she lay there, staring at the blank wall, she was okay with it. It was unfortunate, yes. But Rippleballad was content in knowing she had lived a full life. Most cats f her background died much, much younger. And Ripple had wouldn’t be dying alone. She had a family, even if some of them were from a different clan. She had her kits, and what lovely kits they were. She had Kingfisherflight, and just the thought of him could brighten up her day. She had found a place where she belonged. And she had peace.
