Why did they take you from me?
Sandstorm sat at Fireheart's grave, rigid. It was cruel enough for StarClan to take him from her, but to take him from his kits... That's unforgivable. She kept her sandy-ginger head lowered, paw tracing the unearthed soil.
"Sandstorm?" She looked over her shoulder to see Graystripe padding toward her. His gray fur was groomed, muscles showing under the dimming sunlight as he moved.
"What do you need?" she snapped, leaf-green eyes flaring.
Graystripe came and sat beside her. He remained expressionless, but Sandstorm thought she saw a hint of relief. How can he be relieved? she wondered. Fireheart's dead, and it's as if he never cared about him.
"A proposition?" Graystripe meowed.
She sat back, staring at him. Her chin was slightly raised, her saddened expression transforming into one of more suspicion. "What proposition?"
"I know you've never been too fond of Fireheart," he started, "and I know I've never been either. It is much better with him gone - Bluestar favored him over everyone else anyway. Now she can't with him dead. You're the only cat I could think of that may be willing to.. say, help me?"
"How dare you say that!" Sandstorm shot to her paws claws unsheathing and fury flooding through her body. "I am fond of him. I'm the mother of his kits, for StarClan's sake! And how dare you say we're better off with him dead. Sure, Bluestar may have favored him, but was it favoritism or just the love a mother would have for her kits?"
"Now I understand you're upset, Sandstorm," Graystripe conceded.
"Upset?" she yowled. "Upset? I'm more than upset!"
Graystripe stood up, pinning her to the ground. He forced all his weight on top of her. Muzzle less than a mouse-length away, she could feel his warm breath against her muzzle. "Cloudpaw saw what I did," he hissed. "And I need you to lie for me. Tell Bluestar I was with you when it happened. Tell her he was just hallucinating. That grief can make you see and hear things that aren't real. Tell her I was never speaking to those rogues, or dealing with dogs."
"Rogues? Dogs?" Sandstorm questioned. "What in the name of StarClan are you talking about?"
"Surely you understand?" he asked, nodding toward a bush close to the gorge.
Inside the bush was a pair of icy blue eyes. The pair of eyes were narrowed, as if carefully watching and listening to everything that was being said. Graystripe may never get off her or leave her alone unless she agrees to lie for him. However, she can't do this. Bluestar must know the truth, no matter how much it pains any of them to hear it.
"Okay," meowed Sandstorm. "I'll do it."
Graystripe let her get up. "Good."
Once she was on her paws, she started off in the direction of ThunderClan's camp. Eventually leaving the sight of Graystripe's amber eyes, she sprinted towards the entrance. Tawnypaw came through the entrance.
"Hey, Sandstorm!" her apprentice greeted, seemingly sheepish. "When can we go hunting?"
"Later."
Upon entering the camp, Sandstorm halted. What dogs? What rogues is he talking to? She knew full well Fireheart's mother wasn't a good cat, and Graystripe was talking kind of like her. She thought more about the wounds her mate received. You didn't have to be a medicine cat to notice the wounds weren't absolutely life-threatening when he received them. Even after Yellowfang's care they weren't.
Who was the last cat in the medicine den before his death?
Sandstorm walked swiftly over to the medicine cat den. Nodding her head in greeting to Yellowfang, she approached the nest Fireheart had been in. There was faint lines of juice and blood spread throughout the nest and the underneath of it. She leaned in for a better look and smell. She recognized the scent of deathberries simply from her mother's and Spottedleaf's warnings about them.
Fireheart didn't succumb to his wounds. He was murdered. But who did it?
She searched for a scent, even a faint one - aside from Fireheart and Yellowfang's. When she picked one up, Sandstorm's blood ran cold with her chilling realization.
Graystripe is Fireheart's murderer.