Back at camp, Flameheart lay in the medicine den, tucked into a nest in the back corner. Though he was aware that no cat was around, he had no energy to move and continuously floated in and out of consciousness. His body was sprawled at an awkward angle and he twitched occasionally, as his sleep constantly threw him into flashes of the Dark Forest, then back into an empty blackness. After several moments of darkness, the dreary mist shrouded woods entered his vision and he realized he was able to move now. The evil cats must have summoned him. Standing, she old tom blinked around wildly, scanning the trees.
"What do you want from me!" He screeched franticly into the dim sickly light.
A raspy cackle sounded from the brush, and two ragged cats emerged, their movements like water as they stalked circles around the Deputy.
"Mudclaw, Mapleshade, haven't you done enough?" Flameheart pleaded, his voice weak. Even in the Dark Forest, he felt as though his legs would collapse. The transparent she-cat growled.
"Aw, the poor kit is scared!" At her words, Mudclaw snickered and took a few paces closer to the ginger tom. They both stopped moving, facing him together.
"We're not done with you until you've lost everything." The former Windclan cat hissed, and dropped into a crouch.
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