This is a story about a sickness that slowly kills the clan off except for few in the "Notes N' Credits" first: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1256323332/ Next: Next friday <3 Previose: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1256323332/
Chapter Three – Play and Trouble Weeks slipped by like falling leaves, and with each passing day, Claykit’s laughter grew louder—and harder to stop. It burst out of him at the smallest things: Grimkit’s clumsy leaps that ended in faceplants, Shadowkit’s stern scoldings when rules were broken, even his own coughing fits that left him wheezing and breathless. Grimkit, ever the show-off, climbed atop a flat rock near the center of camp one morning, puffing out his chest dramatically. He raised her chin and deepened her voice as much as a kit could. “Behold!” she cried. “The great and powerful VoidStar! Tremble before her mighty stare!” A few kits gasped. Others snickered. Claykit doubled over instantly, paws pressed to his belly as peals of laughter spilled out of him. “You’re— you’re hilarious!” he wheezed, coughing once before laughing even harder. Shadowpaw padded over quickly, ears pinned back. She hooked her tail gently around Claykit and tugged him aside. “Claykit,” she said in a low voice, concerned, flickering in her eyes. “You’re coughing too much. You need to slow down. Rest.” Claykit nodded—sort of—but his grin never quite faded. That afternoon, curiosity got the better of Claykit and Grimkit. They slipped away while the camp was busy, padding into the older cats’ training area where the ground was scuffed with paw marks and claw lines. Grimkit leapt onto a fallen branch, pretending it was an enemy warrior, while Claykit cheered him on between bursts of laughter. “VoidStar would never let us do this!” Grimkit taunted, puffing up again. “She’d be all serious—‘Follow the rules!’” That was when VoidStar herself appeared. “Grimkit!” she shouted, eyes blazing. “Stop mocking me this instant!” Grimkit froze. Claykit did not. Before VoidStar could say another word, a fluffy blur barreled into the clearing. “Fluff jail!” she declared proudly. Mrs. Fluffy—the soft-furred cat who runs the nursery with gentle paws. With one swift movement, she rolled Grimkit onto her back and smothered her beneath her dense, cloudlike fur. “Nooo!” Grimkit yelled, her voice muffled as he squirmed helplessly. Her paws flailed, tail flicking wildly, but escape was impossible. Claykit collapsed onto the ground, laughter shaking his whole body. He gasped for air, clutching his belly as tears streamed down his face. He tried to stop. He really did. And laughter turned into coughs…
