Nobody speaks for a while, as frozen as the frosty air.

"He's dead." Snowfoot breaks the silence, voice quivering.

Fresh claw marks are torn through the young kit's frail body. Scarlet blood, as red as the sun setting overhead, stains Hawkkit's still kit fluffy pelt.

"Can you smell anything?" Cougarstride asks me.

Before I get the right words, Snowfoot inturrupts us. "Quit talking, low born six. Loonpaw, what can you smell?"

Loonpaw seems uncomfortable as she answers.

"W-well blood... and... cliffside mushrooms." She stammers, obviously shook from Hawkkit's murder.

"So the killer rolled in mushrooms to hide his scent. Clever." Snowfoot snarled.

"It could be a her." I point out.

Snowfoot just glares at me like I'm some piece of prey she wants to kill with her eyes or something.