The moon was near its highest point in the sky when Sandstorm finally returned to camp. When she arrived at the gorse tunnel, she was dismayed to find Whitestorm guarding the entrance. Memories of their disagreement from that afternoon flooded back into her mind. She knew he would have a few words to say to her about the incident, but she couldn't bring herself to regret what she'd said.

I suppose I might as well face it, Sandstorm thought, sighing to herself. She walked up to Whitestorm, dipping her head to her former mentor. "Good evening, Whitestorm."

"Good evening, Sandstorm." Whitestorm's mew was curt, but there was no trace of hostility, and she immediately felt her muscles relax. "You've been out of camp for a while. Are you feeling alright now?"

Sandstorm shifted about uncomfortably. "I think so," the ginger-furred warrior meowed. "Sorry about earlier, though. I just..."

"I understand," Whitestorm meowed sympathetically. "But Bluestar's been struggling enough as it is, and she needs our support. Besides, Fireheart was her apprentice. Don't you think she already feels terrible about what happened to him?"

Sandstorm bowed her head, recognizing the truth in the older cat's words. She was well aware of the bond that formed between mentor and apprentice, but the friendship between Fireheart and Bluestar went beyond those constraints. It must, after all, if she had chosen him to be her second in command when everyone else had assumed the position would go to Whitestorm or even Runningwind or Mousefur. Perhaps Bluestar's judgment had been clouded when she gave the order to attack WindClan, but Sandstorm knew she would never have hoped for Fireheart to be as severely wounded as he was now.

"I–I hadn't thought about that," she admitted. "I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," her ex-mentor mewed kindly. Yawning, Whitestorm added, "Now, I think it's time for us to get some sleep. We'll need to be ready if Bluestar wants us on a morning patrol tomorrow, after all."

Sandstorm nodded and followed the large white cat into the warriors' den, curling up inside her nest near the outer edge of the shelter. Try as she might, however, she couldn't seem to make herself fall asleep. Vivid images of Fireheart taking his last breaths permeated her mind, causing her heart to clench in fear. Even though she knew Cinderpelt was watching over him, that didn't stop her mind from going immediately to the worst-case scenario.

Fireheart might still die tonight, Sandstorm thought desperately. And if that happens and I'm here, then I won't be with him when it happens. I can't let that happen! If he is going to die, then I want to be there for him.

With that final thought in mind, the ginger she-cat stood up from her nest and started in the direction of the medicine den. As she approached the fern tunnel, however, she froze as she noticed that there was another cat inside the cave. It took a few heartbeats for Sandstorm to realize who the cat was, but eventually, she recognized the thin frame of her Clan leader. She was staring down at Fireheart's unconscious form, and the expression in her eyes was one of deep sorrow and regret.

"Oh, Fireheart," she heard Bluestar murmur. "What have I let happen to you?"

Just like that, hearing the anguish in Bluestar's voice as she blamed herself for her deputy's injuries, Sandstorm felt the last of her resentment melting away. Even though her leader had been neglecting all her warriors for moons now, she didn't have the heart to hold a grudge against her anymore. How could she, when Bluestar was looking at Fireheart with the expression of a mother watching her kit dying?

He means more to her than I realized, Sandstorm mused to herself. I knew she cared for him, but I never expected...

Her thoughts were interrupted as Bluestar turned around and padded towards the medicine den entrance. The blue-furred cat jumped back when she saw Sandstorm, the sight of her catching her by surprise.

"What are you doing?" Bluestar hissed.

"I–I just came to see Fireheart," Sandstorm stammered. Although she had lost some of her strength, the ThunderClan leader still had a commandeering presence.

At that, Bluestar's eyes clouded with sadness. "I figured as much," she murmured. Sandstorm waited for a moment, wondering if she was going to say anything more, but the ThunderClan leader just bowed her head and continued towards her den underneath the Highrock. She hadn't made any mention of Sandstorm's verbal confrontation earlier, the pale ginger she-cat realized with a prickle of shame.

Silently, Sandstorm padded into Cinderpelt's den where Fireheart lay, unaware that anyone had come to see him. A pang of grief swept through her as she noticed the dried blood on his fur. He looked nothing like the strong warrior she had come to admire so much. Instead, he looked frail and weak, as though any moment he would be on his way to StarClan. Even his breathing seemed shallower than usual, although Sandstorm wasn't quite sure if that was just her mind playing tricks on her or not.

Please, StarClan, if you care at all about us, don't let Fireheart die, she pleaded silently. I know I don't deserve to ask, not after the way I treated him when he joined the Clan, but I–I mean, we–need him.

It was strange, Sandstorm reflected, how much the flame-pelted tom had come to mean to her. She could still remember the scorn she had felt when Fireheart first arrived in ThunderClan as a kittypet, then the resentment and jealousy as he was made a warrior before she was despite having started his training later. Had someone told her that she would ever care as much as she did, she would have either laughed or clawed their ears off.

The only downside was that her newfound friendship with Fireheart had caused a rift between her and Dustpelt. Sandstorm knew he was hurt when it became clear that she preferred the former kittypet's companionship over his, and she had felt guilty about it at first. However, he seemed preoccupied with Fernpaw these days, so she supposed it had all worked out in the end anyway.

"Wake up, Fireheart, please," Sandstorm whispered.

But the flame-pelted warrior remained unmoving, utterly unresponsive to her pleas. With a sigh, Sandstorm turned away and headed back to the warriors' den, resigning herself to chasing the sleep that was sure to evade her for the rest of the night.