Warmth enveloped Swanpaw's drowsy body. Her mind, in its halfway sleeping state, recognized the scent of her sister next to her, and the lulling strokes of her tongue cleaning Swanpaw's white pelt. The apprentice's den smelled odd; it had the heady scent of many herbs in the air. Amongst the many scents, Swanpaw noticed the sharp odor of mint ...

     With a sudden gasp like she had just broken the surface of waters drowning her, Swanpaw jolted upright and stared around wildly. Mint ... the smell which masked the horrid scent of death emanating from Ravenfoot's lifeless body ...

     "Swanpaw!" Briarpaw's voice startled her back to the present. "You're safe in the medicine den. Calm down."
The medicine den ... not the apprentice's den. That was why it reeked of mint. Swanpaw's breathing slowed and she slumped back down into the nest. Briarpaw's cyan eyes glowed with concern down at her.

     "What happened?"

     Swanpaw shifted as broken memories presented themselves in her mind. Bright scarlet berries. Twisted limbs. The half-eaten mouse dangling out of Ravenfoot's foam-covered jaws. Her mad dash away from the horrifying scene.

     "Swanpaw," Briarpaw said softly. "We need to know what happened."

     With a shaky breath, Swanpaw nodded. "I was out hunting with Sandspark and Perchclaw. I brought some prey back to camp, and then lost track of them, so I went out alone. I ... I followed the scent of a mouse ... which led me to the birch glade. There was—there was a yew bush with ripe deathberries. I saw Ravenfoot in the middle of the clearing." Swanpaw looked away and spoke waveringly, "He was in an awful position, like—like a dead spider—and he smelled of mint. He had a half-eaten mouse by him, and his mouth ... it was all foamy. And his eyes ..." Shivering, Swanpaw tried to get the mental image out of her mind.

     Briarpaw was tense. "I must go tell Jaystar so that we can retrieve the body." The sleek brown tabby exited the den, her tail twitching with agitation.

     "Well then, I suppose you can tell me what all the fuss is about!" a cheerful voice startled Swanpaw. Roseberry slid into the den gracefully and eyed Swanpaw's scratched pelt. Along with the medicine cat wafted an overwhelming scent of mint.

     Swanpaw unsheathed her claws and choked, "You—you smell like mint!"

     Roseberry nodded briefly before turning to her herb stores. "Mhm," she affirmed. "I just found a huge clump growing near the edge of our territory! It's great—we'll have all the catmint we need in case of greencough this leaf-bare."

     Swanpaw's mind was whirling. Roseberry and Ravenfoot both stunk of mint ... but Roseberry couldn't have ... no! No, Roseberry would never do such a thing. I won't think of it. But still, Swanpaw found herself flinching each time Roseberry pasted herbs onto her scratches.

     "Now then, where are all these little cuts from?" the brown tabby asked as she put a gooey mixture onto Swanpaw's flank.

     "I ran into some brambles," she mumbled, avoiding Roseberry's gaze. Soon, the medicine cat had finished administering the herbs, and she stepped back, fixing an appraising green gaze on Swanpaw.

     "You don't have to tell me what's going on, Swanpaw. I can learn that from anyone else. But I want you to know that I'm always here to talk to, if you need it. Alright?"

     Swanpaw met the she-cat's pale green gaze briefly, then she looked down again. "Yeah," she mumbled. No, her mind said. After today, I won't ever be able to look at you the same way ...

     Roseberry nodded with a satisfied expression. "Well, you're free to go now," she mewed, and Swanpaw immediately felt relief wash over her.

     Nodding quickly to the medicine cat, she ducked out of the den and took a deep breath of the chilly air outside. It felt good to clear her head of the scent mint and other aromatic herbs that were stashed in the medicine den. Despite the fact that she'd just slept for several hours, exhaustion still weighed on Swanpaw's body. It had not been a restful sleep. Swanpaw turned and plodded to the apprentice's den. Her nest felt heavenly as she sank down and curled into a tight, fluffy white ball, and slumber did not evade her for long.

❈ ❈ ❈

     When Swanpaw awoke, the first thing she noticed was the hunger gnawing at her belly. Her stomach rumbled, and she cracked her bleary eyes open. Swanpaw had a one-track mind, and it was set on food. Did I even eat a single meal yesterday? Deciding to ignore her messy pelt, Swanpaw clambered out of the empty apprentice's den and squinted in the light outside. After blinking several times, her pupils adjusted to the brightness, and her eyes roved the camp for the fresh-kill pile. A new object caused Swanpaw's body to stiffen.

     Ravenfoot's body lay in the middle of the clearing. Mallowblaze, whom he had mentored, was the sole cat who crouched beside him to grieve.

     It was a saddening sight.

     Is he really missed so little?

     Not allowing herself to dwell on the morbid scene, Swanpaw sucked in a breath and turned.

     The fresh-kill pile was meagerly stocked, and normally Swanpaw would've saved the remaining prey for the elders or queens, but the stabbing pain in her stomach made her pick up a finch and devour it with gusto. Just this once, she promised herself. The bird was cold and stiff, but Swanpaw focused on the delicious feeling of snapping its bones between her teeth instead of the dull flavor.

     "Breaking the code I see," was Briarpaw's cordial greeting as she padded up to Swanpaw.

     Freezing, Swanpaw stared at her sister mid bite.

     Rolling her eyes, Briarpaw scoffed, "Oh, don't worry about it. If anyone deserves a little early meal, it's you.

     Swanpaw relaxed and continued chewing. Her eyes darted around the camp, looking instinctively for Roseberry. Stiffening when the pale brown tabby emerged from the medicine den, Swanpaw stared at Roseberry as she padded over to chat with Lichencloud.

     "What's all that about?" Briarpaw's voice was low, and she looked at Swanpaw with a perceptive expression in her sharp eyes.

     "Hmm?" Swanpaw mumbled as she gulped down a bite. She decided to play stupid and hope Briarpaw wouldn't push it. 

     "You know what I mean. What's got you uncomfortable about Roseberry?"

     "Oh. Yes. Well." Swanpaw's gaze shifted around uneasily.

     "Come on," Briarpaw murmured. "You know if you don't tell me, I'll just find out some other way."

     Sighing, Swanpaw wished that her sister was less observant. "I'm upset," she finally admitted. "About ..."

     "About what?"

     "Roseberry."

     With a snort, Briarpaw mewed, "Tell me something I don't already know."

     "Alright, alright," Swanpaw gave in. "When I found Ravenfoot he, well, he reeked of mint."

     "As if his murderer had used it to cover their scent." Briarpaw nodded.

     Swanpaw unsheathed her claws and scraped them across the ground nervously. "Well, yes."

     "You tend to overuse the word 'well' when you're uneasy," Briarpaw pointed out dryly. "Now, why don't we omit that little word and get on with it?"

     Swanpaw huffed. "Fine. We—anyway, that is, when Roseberry came in to treat my cuts, she positively stank of mint." Swanpaw took a deep breath and met Briarpaw's cyan gaze to see her reaction.

     "Our own medicine cat ..." Briarpaw narrowed her eyes.

     "Hold on," Swanpaw protested, shifting to face her sister. "That doesn't mean it was her! It just bothered me a bit."

     Briarpaw's dark look told Swanpaw that she wasn't buying it.

     "She's Bramblewood's sister, for StarClan's sake!"

     "Doesn't mean she's innocent just because she's the sister of our father. Look, Swanpaw, that's a pretty piece of evidence we've got against Roseberry now, and it can't be ignored. We must watch ourselves around her from now on."

     Swanpaw's heart sank. She'd been hoping Briarpaw would scoff at her suspicions, tell her they meant nothing. But now ... now she could never trust Roseberry again. All because of the simple scent of an herb ...

     "Look, I've got to head out for some training with Tigerdawn," Briarpaw mewed briskly, standing. "But," she added with a glare, "it looks like you won't be too lonely while I'm gone."

     "Hmm?" Swanpaw followed the direction of Briarpaw's gaze and saw Sandspark padding over to her from the entrance to camp.

     Briarpaw slipped off and Swanpaw hurriedly smoothed down her tufty fur as the cream tabby approached.

     "Morning," she greeted him with a forced smile.

     "I just heard about it all from Foxshade," he mewed with concern in his amber irises. "I'm so sorry, Swanpaw."

     Swanpaw gulped and her facade crumbled. "It was awful," she whispered.

     "I'm sure it was." Sandspark sat beside her and wrapped his tail around her. "But it's alright now. You're alright."

     Blinking and looking away, Swanpaw murmured, "But it isn't alright. There's someone—a killer, here. I'm afraid."

     "You'll be safe, Swanpaw. I'll keep you safe."

❈ ❈ ❈

     From her spot in the shadows at the edge of camp, Briarpaw glared at Swanpaw's back as she leaned into Sandspark. He murmured something, and his eyes flicked to where Briarpaw was hiding.

     A ghost of a smirk stretched across his face, and his amber eyes mocked Briarpaw. They seemed to say, I'm taking her away from you, and you'll never get her back once I'm through with her.

     Briarpaw's hackles raised, and she bared her fangs at the tom.

     Sandspark simply showed his own white teeth, his cold amber eyes boring into hers as Swanpaw leaned unassumingly onto his shoulder.

A/N: Well, well, well, what did you guys think??  Any suspicions about the murderer of Ravenfoot?

Oops, forgot to mention that the image at the top of the chapter is Swanpaw sleeping! You all probably already guessed that though lol.