This one's long. Let me know about any plot holes!
Chapter nine: First Cold Blood
""Whitestorm, take Darkstripe and Mousefur to patrol the Shadowclan border," Bluestar instructed, as Lionheart was not present to give orders. "Longtail, take Graystripe to patrol Riverclan's borders, if they cause problems, come to the Sandy Hollow for help. Tigerclaw, come with me to the Sandy Hollow to assess all the apprentices. The rest of you, go hunt where and with whoever you please, though I want Dustpelt to remain behind to guard camp."
"Sandstrike!" Fireheart called as the patrols grouped up. "How about that tree hunting lesson?"
"The Great Sycamore should be a good place for me to see what you know," Sandstrike told him. "I'll teach you the basics and we'll put it to the test in a hunt."
"Game on," Fireheart grinned as the Thunderclan cats headed into the forest. Tigerclaw stopped Sandstrike on her way out.
"Darkstripe will split the patrol, you just have to kill Fireheart and let Whitestorm find the body, and you find him. You'll run to the Sandy Hollow for help, and tell Bluestar everything. I'll set the apprentices to find Whitestorm," Tigerclaw murmured before running after Bluestar.
Sandstrike caught up to Fireheart and they raced to the Great Sycamore, with the pale ginger she-cat beating the former kittypet by a tree length.
"Get your breath back, then climb to that fifth branch up there," Sandstrike pointed with her tail.
"Watch me!" The fiery tom declared, leaping at the tree.
If he gets much dumber I won't even need to push him, Sandstrike thought as the warrior clumsily climbed the tree above her.
Sandstrike hastily gave Fireheart tips on how to climb better, and then taught him how to leap from tree to tree.
"Let's see you make a catch," Sandstrike nodded to a bird in the next tree over. She watched Fireheart slink along the branch, his pelt blending in with the few remaining orange leaves. He leaped onto the branch in front of him, pausing while he silently regained his balance. Stayed close to the trunk to avoid rustling the dry, dying leaves, Fireheart leapt from branch to branch until he was level with the bird. He crept along the branch. The bird noticed a flash of bright fur as he pounced and ended its life.
"Well done!" Sandstrike called up to him, forcing her fur not to prickle as she gave him praise. "I'm going to head towards the beech grove, there should be plenty of squirrels here. You stay here in the oaks where the bark is rougher and easier to grip, the sycamore should attract plenty of prey."
"'Easier to grip?'" Fireheart challenged. "I can hunt in trees, you don't need to baby me! Treat me like a warrior!"
"Oh yes, mighty leader, hunt wherever you please," Sandstrike bowed her head to Fireheart as he dropped down to the branch across from her.
"I want to hunt in the beech grove with you," Fireheart said simply.
"Tree hunting isn't ideal to be hunting in groups of even pairs," Sandstrike told him. "Too much weight could break a perfectly healthy branch, and group hunting requires always being aware of where your partner is. When tree hunting, if you don't pay enough attention to your paws, you're dead. If you don't pay enough attention to your prey, it's gone. We can figure out group tree hunting another day, for now, we need to bring home food."
Fireheart seemed to accept her answer. Sandstrike set off for the beech grove between her and camp, though once she was out of Fireheart's field of vision she made a detour to a certain oak tree next to the dirtplace. She rolled in the leaf mulch to cover her own scent with its rank, earthy smell. She then tucked Whitestorm's fur under her claws and went to the beech grove where she quickly hunted two squirrels above the ground. She buried her prey and tracked down Fireheart.
"I'm the best hunter in the trees," the ginger tom was muttering to himself as he buried a sparrow among a squirrel and two starlings. Sandstrike climbed into the tree above Fireheart, and once he began to climb, she leapt into his tree. She smiled to herself as she left a tuft of white fur snagged on a twig before jumping down onto Fireheart's branch.
"Cute that you believe that," Sandstrike growled. Fireheart jumped, then scrambled to maintain his balance. He turned around, his eyes showing his confusion towards Sandstrike's cold tone of voice.
"I mean, I guess you're better at it, for now," Fireheart attempted to flirt, to try and get Sandstrike's friendly personality back.
"I admit, I don't like to play games, unless it's one I always win," Sandstrike continued. "But now I've found a new game entirely. I realize now that playing with a cat's heart is much more fun than playing with a kit, even though a lovestruck cat is about as intelligent as a mouse."
"Sandstrike?" Fireheart asked uneasily. "What do you mean?"
"Even now, you try to find the good in this, hoping it's a trick. You were too trusting to begin with, and now your heart blinds you to my intentions," Sandstrike stared him down, her green eyes like ice.
"You… you don't feel the same way as I do?" Fireheart's slow mind was starting to catch on.
"I never did," Sandstrike smiled wickedly. "I never felt anything for you but hatred. You are nothing special to me, you are an obstacle, and also a pawn. Your foolishness let you believe I was beginning to care for you, while in reality…" Sandstrike began to stalk closer to the tom, forcing him to the end of the branch. "I was planning to kill you."
"No," Fireheart's emerald eyes widened with anguish. "It's not true… It's a trick! Ha ha, you got me, come on out Graystripe."
"You only wish it was," Sandstrike placed a paw on Fireheart's chest. She memorized the fear in his eyes, imprinted the betrayed look his face wore to her memory. She gave Fireheart a small shove, and told herself to forever remember that she shouldn't let other cats wrong her like he had done. She was powerful enough to overcome her problems.
Yet, she felt regretful. She cursed herself for these feelings. She couldn't help but watch the horrific scene as the ginger tom fell. He cried out in pain as he struck a branch, but the impact stunned him, and he clutched at the branch too late. He fell once more, all the way to the ground. Even from her perch high above, Sandstrike could hear the snap of his spine, the thud of his skull hitting the hard earth.
Am I a monster? Sandstrike wondered as she climbed down the tree. His final screams echoed in her mind long after they were cut off by his abrupt end. I hurt him. He loved me, and I killed him, and made sure he knew it was me. I could've pushed him from behind, while he didn't know I was there. Why did I do it as Mapleshade told me?
"Get a grip on yourself," Sandstripe muttered under her breath as she approached the broken body. Her stomach wormed as she looked at the dead cat. His spine was obviously broken halfway down, for his hip was twisted the wrong way, his hind legs a mouse length from his head. His head rested on the ground at an unnatural angle, while blood trickled from behind his ear. Fireheart's green eyes were clouded with death. Was Sandstrike imagining the hurt in those blank eyes? Traces of his last emotion?
Sentiment isn't going to help you! Sandstrike told herself sternly as she carefully placed Whitestorm's fur under Fireheart's claws. I must be a cold blooded killer for my clan! I can't regret anything! I didn't regret killing Crookedstar or Whitefang!
Maybe… Murmured a quiet part of Sandstrike's head. Maybe Fireheart was more to me. I could try to reject my feelings, but maybe a part of me loved him, a part of me I kept buried. At least, maybe part of me would have loved him.
"What's done is done," Sandstrike growled quietly out loud. "He is gone, and his sacrifice is for the good of the clan."
The cold, logical, part of my head said: The only good thing that comes of these feelings is a convincing sob story that my clanmates will believe. Just wait until the time comes to show them.
After washing the leaf mulch scent in the stream, Sandstrike returned to the beech grove and continued her hunt until sunhigh. Satisfied that her scent was present enough in the trees, she returned to the Great Sycamore, hoping she could time it right. She leapt into a tree that still held onto most of its browning leaves and watched the body below.
I hope no one notices how cold the body is by the time it gets back to the camp, Sandstrike thought as she spotted a white pelt through the trees. Perhaps I can put it off on the chilly weather and cold ground.
Sandstrike leapt down from the tree and doubled back a bit. "Fireheart! Fireheart, where are you? We should get back to camp!" She began to push her way through the ferns surrounding the clearing where the dead warrior lay. "Fireheart, stop playing games with me-" Sandstrike emerged into the clearing, and saw what she had wanted. The large, thick-furred white tom was crouching over the stiff body, his shock clear on his face. Sandstrike let lose her emotions.
"Fireheart!" She shrieked, dropping to her belly beside the body as tears streamed down her face. "Fireheart, no! Wake up, please!"
"Sandstrike…" Whitestorm rasped. "He's dead. Gone."
"It's your fault!" Sandstrike screamed. "You killed him!" As though blinded with terror, she crashed through the undergrowth, cutting a straight path towards the Sandy Hollow.
The nine cats jumped in surprise as the she-cat tumbled down the steep sandy slope. She looked quite crazy, with her tearstained face, and her pelt made ragged by her flight through the forest. Scratches from brambles added spots of blood to complete the effect, as well as leaves and twigs snagged in her pelt.
"Sandstrike! What's wrong?" Bluestar rushed to the ginger warrior's side, concern clear in her sky-colored eyes.
"F-Fireheart!" Sandstrike's breathing was ragged, her lungs feeling purged of air after her run. Once she'd regained her breath, sobs began to wrack her body. "He's dead! I-I left him to hunt elsewhere, and when I came back… he was dead!" Sandstrike threw her head back in an anguished wail. She didn't quite have enough emotion tied to Fireheart to keep up the act for long, so she began to tap into her grief for her father to fuel the fire. She threw back her head in an anguished wail.
"What killed him? Where is his body?" Bluestar asked calmly, though her eyes betrayed her concern.
"I think…" Sandstrike took great, gulping breaths. "I think he fell from a tree. I found Whitestorm beside his broken body… I think he pushed him."
"Where did you find them?" Tigerclaw pressed.
"The G-Great Sycamore," Sandstrike choked. Her eyes locked with Bluestar's, full of grief and horror. "Please," she begged. "Catch him before he gets away. I can't let Fireheart's murderer escape justice!"
"Lynxpaw, Littlepaw, stay here and comfort you sister. The rest of you, come with us on a cathunt," Tigerclaw said darkly.
"Do you really think Whitestorm did it?" Sandstrike heard Bluestar ask Tigerclaw as they departed. "She could've been confused…"
Sandstrike lay in the sand, trembling. Her brothers pressed against her comfortingly.
"Do you really think Whitestorm did it?" Littlepaw asked after a while.
"Maybe he didn't intend to kill him," Sandstrike murmured, staring blankly at the ground. "He seemed shocked enough when I found him. But who else? Fireheart is-was nimble, and he had practice with climbing from his kittypet days. He was a natural tree hunter, I don't think he would've fallen by mistake."
"He was tree hunting?" Lynxpaw asked. "We should tell Bluestar, she'll need every detail to figure this out." Sandstrike let her younger brothers guide her to the scene of the crime, finding it by following the scent trail of Bluestar.
"Brackenpaw, run to camp to get Yellowfang. Thornpaw, go find your mentor and tell him his best friend is dead. Redpaw, go track down the rest of Whitestorm's patrol," Bluestar was ordering. Tigerclaw had the large white warrior pinned.
"It wasn't me!" Whitestorm was yowling. "Please, Bluestar, you're my kin, believe me! I didn't do it!"
Bluestar shakily turned to face him. "If you did this…" She growled, her eyes hard as stone. "I will never call you my kin again. You will be judged fairly for your involvement in this. Until you are proved innocent or guilty, I have no ties to you for the safety of my clan. I cannot let a murderer get away because of a bias held by me."
"Bluestar, perhaps Sandstrike's story would be useful," Lynxpaw piped up. Bluestar turned to face the trio, and her eyes narrowed.
"Let's have it then," she ordered.
Sandstrike took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. "Fireheart requested that I teach him how to hunt in the trees, since he was poor at it. He quickly regained his former climbing skills he had once used to climb fences as a kittypet. I gave him a few tips to climb trees even better, then showed him how to jump from tree to tree. I watched him kill a bird to make sure he could do it. I made a stupid decision," Sandstrike growled, bowing her head. "I told him you couldn't hunt in groups when tree hunting. I could have easily stayed nearby to check in on him, I could have hunted on the other side of the Great Sycamore, or anywhere within earshot. Instead, I went to the beech grove. The trees are harder to climb, but I got a nice haul of squirrels from it. I went to find Fireheart to see how he was doing, wondering how much prey he had caught. I came through these ferns here, and saw-" Sandstrike gave a small sob, fixing her eyes on the battered bundle of ginger fur a few tail lengths away. "I saw Fireheart's body, with Whitestorm beside it. I saw the shock in Whitestorm's eyes, but there was something else. Something that made me run, fearing that I was next. Thank Starclan I ran into you next."
"What's this Brackenpaw tells me about Fireheart being dead?" Yellowfang asked a moment after Sandstrike finished her story. Her yellow eyes widened with shock and grief when she spotted his body. She visibly made an effort to swallow her emotions for the dead cat and dutifully inspected the body.
"He didn't die as quickly as you think," Yellowfang reported. "While the impact with the ground split his skull and broke his spine, both of which could have killed him, he has several bruises on his belly that tell me he hit something on the way down. The thing he hit would've surprised him and left him stunned. Because he was stunned, I expect that is why he was unable to correct his position and land on his paws… though even if he had, the many broken ribs suggests he fell from quite a height. I don't know if it was possible for him to survive at all, but we'll know once we find where he fell from."
"And how would we do that?" Bluestar asked.
"Check these three trees," Yellowfang pointed with her ragged gray tail. "Those three are tall enough and close enough to be the ones he fell from. You'll also find the branch he likely hit on his way down on one of these."
"You five, search the trees," Tigerclaw ordered. The young cats did so, Brightpaw and Cinderpaw more slowly, one grieving for her mentor, another in shock about the fact that her mentor could be the reason.
"Don't go too high," Sandstrike told them, her voice breaking. "Be careful, we don't need you to share Fireheart's fate."
"With that in mind, perhaps a more experienced cat with multiple lives should search the higher branches," Bluestar said, leaping into the trees. Sandstrike noticed shock and betrayal warring in her eyes. She would be devastated, just as Tigerclaw had said she would be, if she found out her closest friend killed a loyal warrior. Sandstrike watched hopefully as the six cats searched. Her heart leaped when Brightpaw found Fireheart's claw marks on the branch he'd hit.
"He fell from higher than this," Brightpaw called.
"Keep looking!" Bluestar ordered. Sandstrike watched Thunderclan's leader with interest as she became tantalizingly close to the spot where she'd pushed Fireheart. She was satisfied when she climbed onto the branch above it. The branch where Whitestorm's fur stood out like snow in Greenleaf.
"Explain this," Bluestar ordered with a hint of snarl in her voice a few moments later. A tuft of cloud-like fur drifted down from Bluestar's mouth, landing in front of Whitestorm. "I found this above the branch with Fireheart's scent. I could barely smell him through the fear scent."
Thank Starclan! Sandstrike thought. Any chance of them finding my scent there is gone.
"The branch with Fireheart's scent was strong, and not rotted. Nowhere in that area was a stub where a branch broke, and the branch where his scent was found most was stiff, it wouldn't have swayed in the strongest of winds enough to cause him to lose his balance."
"It's one tuft of fur!" Whitestorm protested. "It could belong to a rogue! It could be seasons old! Find one other clue that ties me to this, I dare you!" He was clearly becoming mad with anger at his false association in the crime. "You'll find nothing! Nothing!"
"Do we know which way Fireheart was facing when-when he fell?" Sandstrike asked. "Or can we conclude he was pushed?"
"The only other way he could've fallen is something, a bird's cry, a yowl, a bark, or something, had caused him to jump and lose his balance," Tigerclaw mused.
"There's no way to prove that's how he fell, unless there's a witness," Bluestar growled regretfully.
"Unless a cat can somehow leave paw prints on solid wood, there's no way to know which way Fireheart was facing," Yellowfang added to answer Sandstrike's other question. "Why do you ask?"
"Maybe he could've seen his attacker. Maybe he could've fought back," Sandstrike pointed out.
"He bore no external injuries," Yellowfang pointed out. "Other than a gash on the back of his head, but that isn't a cut, it was caused by the impact on the half frozen ground."
"So perhaps he won the fight," Sandstrike suggested. "Or it was just getting started when he lost his balance."
"Speculating how he fell does nothing," Bluestar snapped. "This theory does nothing to prove who did it!"
"His paws have blood," Yellowfang interrupted. Sandstrike turned to look, confused. How did he have blood on his paws?
Yellowfang bent closer to sniff Fireheart's paws. Her eyes widened when she spotted the white fur.
"Bluestar… the blood belongs to birds and squirrels, from his hunt no doubt… but that is Whitestorm's fur without a doubt under his claws," Yellowfang announced. BLuestar rushed to confirm this, and returned to Whitestorm, fury in her eyes.
"Tigerclaw, Brackenpaw, escort this traitor back to camp. Littlepaw, Lynxpaw, take the body. Redpaw, guide your mentor," Bluestar said flatly.
"Bluestar, please…" Whitestorm begged as the cats began to head towards camp. "It wasn't me, I swear upon my life! How do you know Sandstrike didn't do it? She's always hated Fireheart! Her rage caused her to kill two cats during the battle of Sunningrocks. At least make this fair and investigate her too!"
"I became something of a father figure to Sandstrike during her later half of her apprenticeship," Tigerclaw interrupted. "I saw her begin to grow close to Fireheart. She didn't admit it, she insisted he was a mere friend… I only regret that life can be too short to deny your feelings. I highly doubt she did it. However, if it'll make the clan satisfied with our accusation, perhaps we should look into it."
"Thank you, old friend!" Whitestorm's yellow eyes showed tears of relief.
"I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it so that the clan doesn't question who did it!" Tigerclaw snarled. "I know you did it, I owe you nothing. You disgust me, no doubt you killed Fireheart because you thought he'd replaced you as Bluestar's closest friend, since she started to treat him like a son instead of you."
"Emotions get bottled up," Yellowfang added quietly. "Whitestorm is known to keep calm, to keep a level head. A cat can only take so much without letting it out. Sometimes these fits of anger can be too violent to resist."
"Just go investigate and I'll go back to camp with Tigerclaw and Brackenpaw quietly," Whitestorm snarled.
"Sandstrike, once you left Fireheart, where did you go?" Bluestar asked. "And why did you leave Fireheart near the Great Sycamore?"
"The oaks are easier to climb, with their rough bark," Sandstrike explained. "Beech bark is much smoother and easier to slip on, but the nuts attract squirrels, especially in this season before Leafbare. Fireheart was new to tree hunting, so I wanted to protect him from such a tragic death." Sandstrike gave a bitter laugh. "Ironic, I guess. Anyways, I caught three squirrels, two sparrows, and a thrush. At sunhigh, I went to find Fireheart, and I told you the rest."
"Where did you stash the prey?" Bluestar asked. Sandstrike showed her the catch she'd made after unburying it at the foot of a small beech sapling.
"We should try to find Fireheart's catches," Sandstrike murmured, her eyes filling with tears as she stared at her prey. "It'll be his last gift to his clan."
"No," Bluestar shook his head. "His last gift will be far greater. His death has revealed a traitor in our midst. I had hoped I would be able to raise Whitestorm well, but clearly he has too much of his father in him to be able to be a great warrior."
"How will we break this to Speckletail and Willowpelt?" Sandstrike asked. "And poor Ashkit and Fernkit. They're not even apprentices yet, but they'll have to bear the burden of their father's betrayal."
"I wish we didn't focus so much on the heritage of our warriors," Bluestar shook her head sadly as the cats headed for their camp. "Fireheart was always looked down upon for his origin, your first greeting of him proved that. Tigerclaw has always pushed himself ever since his father became a kittypet. Lionheart's kits likely feel the pressure of their father being the deputy."
"Perhaps it's a good thing you never had kits, if the clan puts so much emphasis on warrior blood," Sandstrike commented. "Maybe if I hadn't, me and Fireheart could have had some time together before his death."
"I did have kits," Bluestar's voice was tight with grief. "A fox stole them during a harsh Leafbare. I suppose cats aren't the only ones who struggle in the cold season."
"I'm so sorry," Sandstrike felt guilty for being so tactless.
"I need no pity," Bluestar grunted. She looked at Sandstrike out of the corner of her eye. "If anything, I pity you for what you lost. Your entire future with Fireheart is gone. I only hope you can learn to move on, for I did not. After losing my kits, I felt like a failure, like I couldn't ever be a good mother, if a fox had stolen them from my belly in the night. I cast everyone out, like I had when my mother and sister died. I forgot Thrushpelt had lost as well, and it drove us apart. Sometimes I wonder if he lost his will to live, if he could've fought harder to return from a battle against Riverclan."
Sandstrike searched Bluestar's face. There was grief there, sure, but even more regret than anything. There was also guilt. Sure, that could be expected. But Sandstrike found something else in Bluestar's eyes. She found that guarded wall behind the emotions she'd been unable to hold back. That wall guarded deep secrets, and it told Sandstrike Bluestar wasn't telling the whole truth.
Maybe one day I'll find it, she thought. So long no one finds me out first.