Several dawns passed.
It was early one morning that it happened.
Strongwind had led out the dawn patrol, followed by Swiftstrike and Firespot. None of them said much as the slipped from camp; Firespot purposely ignoring Swiftstrike. Russetflame had emerged from the warriors' den just in time to see Swiftstrike's gray and black tail disappear from camp. She felt surprisingly anxious and vaguely wondered why.
She stretched and slipped over to the fresh-kill pile to grab a mouse. By the time she had settled herself under the Highbranch's tree, Rowantree and Briskriver were slipping from the warriors' den too. The older warriors both took some prey and came to lie next to Russetflame. The three were silent for a few moments, munching on their breakfasts.
"Aspenwood and Drypaw seem to have settled into a routine," Rowantree said, breaking the silence.
"Yeah? You should have seen the look on Birdwing's face when those two came back from camp after training yesterday," Briskriver replied with an emotionless tone.
Russetflame nodded. "Birdwing seems to be spending a lot of time with Appleblossom. Snowdrop said she'd probably have her kits today."
Neither of the others replied, acting as if she hadn't said a thing. Much of the Clan still resented Birdwing and Appleblossom. However, a few cats had taken a quick liking to the new queen. Tabbyfur was enthusiastic at showing her around camp, letting Rowantree get back to her warrior duties instead. Swiftstrike had had Singlepaw catch an extra vole for Appleblossom, too. Birdwing, however, was being ignored by just about everyone except Swiftstrike and Spiderfoot. Every time he was around, Roanstar would give the tom-warrior a pity-filled look.
With her mouse finished, Russetflame stood and shook the dust from her fur. "Would either of you like to join me on a hunting patrol?"
"Sure," Briskriver said, standing as well. "I'll go fetch Mothpaw."
"I'll go. Perhaps we should ask Singlepaw to join us as well? Swiftstrike might not be back for a while," Rowantree offered, heading after Briskriver without waiting for a reply.
Russetflame grunted, though no one heard her.
A short while later the five cats were moving carefully through the brambles, breathing in the scents of the forest. Half-trained Singlepaw was demonstrating a silent crouch for Mothpaw, who watched with wide eyes, thoroughly excited. Briskriver quietly commented on how much Mothpaw's unsure enthusiasm reminded him of Rowantree as a young apprentice. Rowantree gave him a playful shove.
Letting the sounds of her companions fall away, Russetflame listened carefully to the other creatures around her. Her strong ears, however, caught something else. Her head popped up to her neck's full length, straining to hear the noise again. She heard it again, only louder. She took a deep breath, knowing her nose would be able to tell what it was before her ears.
"Great StarClan, what is that!" She took a few steps forward, all of the others falling silent and stepping up around her. Singlepaw's tall ears stood to their highest, Briskriver's nose twitched, and Rowantree's mouth was slightly open the take in the scents with the glad on the roof of her mouth.
"It smells like blood," the former queen said, shaking her head to rid herself of the smell.
"I can't figure out what that noise was..." Singlepaw said quietly. "I think it stopped, though."
"Well, come on," Briskriver said roughly, stepping forward. "Let's go see." He continued onward, not even glancing back to see if the others were following. Mothpaw walked close to her mother, eyes filled with curiosity and fear. Russetflame fell into step with Briskriver, pushing their speed faster and faster until they were at a brisk jog.
Once again, in the last few days, the pretty, young warrior found herself speeding towards the unknown.
Soon, they burst through the brambles and skidded to a halt. A gasp escaped Russetflame's throat and she felt Briskriver tense suddenly at her side. Behind her, Rowantree suddenly stepped in front of Mothpaw, blocking her view. Singlepaw's eyes widened to their fullest.
Before them lay a terrible scene.
Swiftstrike was standing, stalk-still in the middle of the small clearing they'd come upon. There were streaks of blood on his sides, and blood pooled at his paws. His gray eyes were lost in the distance.
A few fox-lengths in front of him lay Firespot and Strongwind, both stone-dead.