As the months went by, I was more and more respected by the labyrinth gnawers. My Scent-seeing abilities intrigued everyone, and they all just had to get a taste of it. I often craved solitude, but I kind of liked all the attention. I was happy.

But the real source of my happiness was my father. I think he thought I was finally worth a damn, now that I had some amazing power. It annoyed me a bit that he was only just realizing it, but all the same, I cherished his company.

He took us hunting often, and we came back with loads of fish, crawlers, and twisters for my mother. He hung around our cave more as well. I felt like I actually had a family.
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"Hey, Twitchtip!" someone called my name. I was ten months old now, nearly full-grown. I had been sparring with my brother, Striker, in an empty cave.

I swung around and saw Rasper, a pup around my age who I had talked to a few times. "What?" I asked.

"What did I just have to eat?" he asked, smirking.

"Oh, c'mon, Rasper." I protested.

"Just sniff." he said.

"Fine." I sniffed. Immediately I smelled fish, not from the River, but from the Waterway. I was surprised. Us gnawers didn't normally fish in the Waterway, only our rivers.

"Well?" he said, tapping his paw.

"You had fish, from the Waterway." I said. He nodded. "How did you get them?"

"My father did. He was patrolling around the area, and couldn't resist the urge to bring some fish to my mother and I!" Rasper said, in a slightly smug tone.

"Whatever." I said. I didn't have time for this. I began to walk back to our cave, and Striker followed.

But that was when the trouble started.
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When we neared the cave, at first I smelled nothing unusal. My mother's smell wasn't there, but I knew she was out hunting, anyway. But something was different. I didn't smell my sisters, and they had been there when Striker and I had left the cave.

My father was there, definitely. But he was with someone. And they were talking. I wanted to listen. I pulled Striker closer.

Of course, my ears being no better that the typical gnawer's ears, I couldn't make out every word. I heard things like, "don't" "couldn't" "had" "do", and "kill". Who had been killed? Was it the humans? Had they killed someone my father knew? I looked curiously at Striker, who shrugged.

I made out, "don't tell anyone," as the only full sentence I'd heard. But then someone came out of the cave. I recognized it as Reekwell, another of Gorger's generals. I hadn't known my father was friendly with him. Apparently, neither did Striker.

"Dad knows him?" he asked.

"I guess." I shrugged.

We waited a few more minutes before going in the cave, so father wouldn't think we'd been evesdropping. When we went in, I saw my father pacing the cave.

"Hi, father." I said. He looked up.

"Oh, hello Twitchtip. Hello Striker." he said.

"Where's Swiftstep and Silvertoes?" I asked.

His expression immediately turned twisted, but I didn't know why. "Umm, uh, weren't they out hunting with your mother?" he asked.

"No. They were here after she left." I said, looking at him quizzically.

"Oh, right. Then I don't know." he said. He began to go out of the cave, but before he did, I took a giant but silent sniff.

I smelled a mixture of emotions, anger, guilt, and one I associated with the term, "good riddance!". But I also smelled something else.

Words began running through my mind. "I had to kill them, they just weren't special or skilled enough, like Twitchtip and Striker. I couldn't call them my pups; they were just too embarassing." It took me a moment to realize that I was actually smelling my father's thoughts! So he had killed pups, his pups, and if Striker and I were still alive, then he must have killed--

"Swiftstep and Silvertoes!" I cried aloud, causing Striker, who had apparently been sparring with his own tail, to look up at me.

"What about them?" he asked.

"Oh no. Oh no." I said.

"What?" Striker asked again.

"Dad killed them!" I cried.

"What?" Striker asked, but this "what" was more one of surprise. "He couldn't have!"

"He did. I smelled his thoughts. He said they weren't as skilled or special as us!" I said, the realization that my sisters were dead by my father's paw sweeping over me. I gave an unexpected sob.

"That's insane!" Striker cried. He made for the cave entrance.

"Where are you going?" I asked him.

"Well, we have to tell mother!" he said, as if it were completely obvious.

"We can't! Not yet." I said, rushing to stop him.

"Why not?" She can do something about it!" Striker said, struggling to free himself from my grasp.

"She can't bring them back if they're already dead! The only thing she'd do is try to fight father, and then she'll get herself killed!" I said. Striker stopped struggling.

"I guess you're right. But what should we do? We have to do something!" he said.

"Well, let's see if we can find their bodies, if he didn't dispose of them." I said.

They were in the first place we looked. I pulled back the stone that covered the entrance to our hidaway den, and the smell of blood and flesh obscured my nostrils it was horrible.

Swiftstep's body was closest to the door, her light brown body covered in blood. But Silvertoes's silver-gray fur was not bloody; it looked like he had broken her neck. I couldn't stand seeing my sisters like that. I pulled the rock back over the hole.

"Well, I think we found them." Striker said. We both walked over to the far end of the cave.

"I can't believe dad did that." Striker said softly. I just nodded and hung my head. We both curled up and fell into an uneasy sleep, just wanting our sisters and waiting for mother.