Whitestorm's ears perked as Tigerclaw raced into the camp. Frostfur bristled beside him. They'd been talking about Brackenpaw and Cinderpaw and discussing what to do next, but all conversation stopped as Tigerclaw appeared.
"Yellowfang!" The great tabby warrior didn't even stop to tell him what was going on before skidding to a halt in front of the dark grey medicine cat.
A few heartbeats later, Fireheart staggered into the camp with a limp body in his jaws. Whitestorm recognised it within a heartbeat. Frostfur shrieked and shot forwards, weaving herself around her kit. Whitestorm was stunned.
"Cinderpaw? Cinderpaw! Oh no... Yellowfang! She's alive, but- her leg!"
Brindleface rushed over to her den mate and pressed herself close to the she-cat. "It'll be okay," she murmured gently, "Let Yellowfang see to her. She'll save her."
Whitestorm wasn't sure whether he should approach or stay back. Yellowfang would need space, but this was his daughter, wasn't it? Should he be rational and try to help? Yellowfang reached forward and dragged the she-cat into her den, closing the bramble cover over the front.
Fireheart looked defeated. His emerald eyes were filled with fear, uncertainty, guilt and confusion.
"What happened?" Whitestorm demanded.
Fireheart's voice cracked briefly. "I... I went out to fetch some catnip for Bluestar.. Tigerclaw... He said there was evidence of ShadowClan hunting near the Thunderpath. He asked for Bluestar to come, but Bluestar has greencough, so she offered to go out instead. I told her not to go – I'd go once I delivered the catnip."
"She went anyway?" He finished. "Was she hit on the Thunderpath?"
Fireheart nodded numbly but said nothing.
Taking a breath, Whitestorm knew he had to stay calm for the sake of the Clan. "Go to your den and get some rest, Fireheart. I'll update you on Cinderpaw once I hear anything. Do you want any poppy seeds?"
Fireheart shook his head, heading for the warrior's den. "Thanks, Whitestorm."
The Clan was still and anxious. Tigerclaw was staring at something past Fireheart, as though searching for something. Brackenpaw was still asleep in his den, having been worn out from a sparring session earlier that day. Whitestorm quickly fetched the tom and ushered him out of the camp before anyone could say anything.
"I'm sorry I woke you so abruptly, Brackenpaw," he meowed smoothly. 'I can't let him know what happened to Cinderpaw. Not just yet. I need to check something first.'
Brackenpaw, oblivious to the danger his sister was in, followed his mentor out into the forest. "Where are we going?" Yawned the apprentice.
"I'm taking you to the Great Sycamore," Whitestorm explained. "I want you to explore that section of the forest, but I want you to stay well away from the Thunderpath."
Brackenpaw nodded, shaking to wake himself fully. When they arrived at the clearing, Brackenpaw was amazed by how much larger the Sycamore tree was to the Owl tree. "Now explore this area. I'll be back in a few moments. Tell me what you find."
Brackenpaw nodded and trotted away, nose low to the ground. Bile was growing in Whitestorm's throat at the thought of telling Brackenpaw what had happened. He knew he would need some time to spend with his sister.
'I'd better check for ShadowClan.'
There was a patch of blood at one section of the great, bitter smelling, solid river. It smelled of Cinderpaw, and he had to shrink into the gorse as a thin, two-pawed monster shrieked past with a never ending roar. When he was sure the way was clear, Whitestorm stepped out onto the path and quickly went about checking.
It was strangely quiet. Standing on the river frayed his nerves and he constantly glanced over his shoulders to check if anything was coming. Whitestorm checked thoroughly, making sure he padded as far along as he could around that patch of the path.
There was no ShadowClan scent.
'So what happened?'
