Wrenpaw screeched in disgust, grief, and terror. Dewpaw and Foggypaw located her nearly instantly, concern etched on their faces.

Their hackles bristled and they skidded to a stop when they saw Stagleap. His throat had been ripped open, clean to the bone, and his intestines spilled from a long slash down his stomach.

"W-what.." Dewpaw's wide eyes flicked between Stagleap and the blood that had soaked into Wrenpaw's fur and then to her sheathed claws.

Wrenpaw had scrambled away from his body. But she noticed how Dewpaw's gaze lingered on her pelt and paws and she cried, "I can hardly play with a kit; I didn't do this!"

Dewpaw snapped out of it, realizing she was right. Wrenpaw was the least likely to ever do such a thing, especially to her own family.

Foggypaw pressed as close to Dewpaw as she could, burying her face in the soft fur of her neck.

Wrenpaw's throat burned with bile and she had to turn away from he gruesome sight. "We.. we need to tell t-the Clan," she whispered.

"We can do that, you go wash up.." Dewpaw told Wrenpaw quickly, glancing pointedly at her blood-stained pelt. Wrenpaw nodded, flustered and woozy.

The two she-cats turned away, Dewpaw guiding the sickly Foggypaw. Once they were away, Wrenpaw's hackles rose. She was alone now. What if the killer was still here?

She didn't know if she was imagining the movement between the foggy trees in the distance or if something was actually lurking there, but she didn't stay to find out.

Wrenpaw sprinted toward the stream, paranoid and scared and disgusted. She leaped the bank into the water, rolling in the pebbles and shallow water.

As she stood to shake off her clean pelt, she noticed just how shallow the stream had become. It was even worse than she had previously found it. Worry gnawed at her chest, however her mind was preoccupied with Stagleap.

He had been her uncle, and had cared for her much more than her mother or her father had. He and Twistedcall had practically raised Wrenpaw since the death of her brother.

Ever since then, her mother had become distant and cold, while her father--who hadn't cared much to begin with, as his relationship with Doestar had been an accident and a one-night thing--had even less reason to associate with her.

Even Owlpaw suffered from Wrenpaw's mistake; their parents had seemingly abandoned him, as well.

And now?

Doestar was going to hate Wrenpaw so much more.

She would blame Wrenpaw for Stagleap's death, only because she discovered him first. The Clan would hate her as well. Would they banish her?

Wrenpaw was frozen. Her paws were cold from the water, however it was the least of her concerns. She couldn't move. She knew she should return to camp, she knew it'd be suspicious if she didn't soon, but she couldn't bring herself to carry on.

Grief sparked inside her chest, shattering her other worries as the realization finally settled in; Stagleap was gone.

Wrenpaw doubled over, so much so that she accidentally dipped her forehead into the stream, causing the wet fur to stick up when she reeled back.

However she didn't much care for it as her attention immediately focused on the cat that stood farther upstream, eyes watching her eerily.

It was Thornwhisper. Wrenpaw had never tried interacting with him because of his being known for lashing out, and for his resentment of those with bird prefixes.

He just simply watched her. Uncomfortable, upset, and scared, Wrenpaw slowly shuffled out of the stream and over a hill. Once out of sight, she ran.

Wrenpaw didn't want to face the Clan, but she no longer wanted to be alone. What if Thornwhisper was the murderer?

No, he had no reason to. Stagleap was a good cat, and Thornwhisper wasn't evil--right?

But then, who did it? Who would have any qualms with the medicine cat? Could it have been Antfoot? He seemed aggressive enough to and he and Stagleap had fought about Doestar plenty times.

But would Antfoot really do it? Wrenpaw didn't think so. What about Tallfrost? He was a crude cat. But he had seemed fond of Stagleap, or at least he admired him.

A sob choked her as she continued trying to pick through which cat could have killed her uncle. This tortuous session of pointless accusatory thoughts continues until Wrenpaw entered camp.

By now, warriors had already brought Stagleap back and cats were lining up to give their final farewells.

Wrenpaw slipped into line behind Peachpaw, who turned to cast a look over his shoulder. But his usually pointed expression was dulled with the scent of death that loomed over them.

"Where have you been?" he hissed, and Wrenpaw swore his narrowed eyes were accusing her the same way Dewpaw had.

"I-I needed a moment to myself..." Wrenpaw let her head drop, struggling to hold back another small sob.

Peachpaw opened his mouth to retort, but instead he closed it again with a flicker of pity in his eyes. He touched his tail to Wrenpaw's wet forehead before turning to approach Stagleap silently.

Wrenpaw didn't know how ot respond to Peachpaw's unexpected gentleness, however she was grateful for it. She watched as he moved away from Stagleap so that she could approach.

It felt as though all eyes were on her--especially Doestar's. Her gaze burned holes into Wrenpaw's shoulders and she knew that she already blamed her.

Wrenpaw crouched to bury her head in the fur of Stagleap's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry I didn't get there in time. I'm so sorry you had to leave like this. I-I.. I'll miss you," Wrenpaw choked as she sank her claws into the ground.

A new impulse rushed through her, and she quickly realized that she craved vengeance. But Wrenpaw wasn't a violent cat--yet Stagleap wasn't and yet he was now dead for no apparent reason. It wasn't fair.

Perhaps it was time Wrenpaw trained combat with Twistedcall.