"Come."

    It is a command uttered by one, hissed by many. We all know what has happened and what has to be done.

    At least half the clan still in the small clearing files out of camp, paws slamming against solid earth, marching like soldier ants through the dark and cold air, which is sharp as a tooth.

    Someone exhales, and I feel their warm breath on my fur, which spikes immediately. I whirl around, claws unsheathed, and see Flintfang smiling.

    "Scared?" He whispers.

    "This isn't my first battle, you know."

    His eyes glaze over with pain. "Good. I don't want to lose you like Littlepaw... Please, stay safe."

    "I ask the same of you. People I love have a nasty habit of turning out dead too often." I lick his ear, like I did when we were kits, matting down his fur. He retaliates by shrugging me off with an amused purr.

    We notice that we've fallen to the back of our patrol already, and my eyes grow wide as I struggle to make out their forms in the darkness. Their movements give them away all too easily and their scents even more so.

    The dark world blurs past me as I keep walking, and I smell Firepool's scent on mine. The scents are growing overwhelming now- my clanmates, the night air, and the dank and cold scent of blood. I scrunch up my muzzle, hoping with all my might the scent will disappear, but it's surely there and there's no getting rid of it.

    We're getting close to wherever this place is. I recognize it as at least a part of the StoneClan territory, but I've never been near it before. Instead of the huge stones being arranged randomly, like where the last battle was fought.

    This place has stones jutting out from angles so it looks like we are in the center of an enormous ribcage, half the size of the trees. I look around for movement, but all I see are my confused clanmates.

    What's going on here?

    There's no more fighting, no more yowls of agony and not a single body moves in the clearing.

    "Is... everyone... dead?" I choke out the words, which rest on the empty night air like a forgotten promise, echoing painfully off the huge rocks which now look in the moonlight like bloodstained claws.

    That's when I see the golden eyes walking out of the darkness. Cobrastrike leaps forwards, slicing his claws across a face... Mothstar, her eyes dreary and face in utmost dismay, begins to bleed, the blood oozing from her face slowly and painfully.

    "I- I'm so sorry Mothstar. I didn't know it was you and-"

    "He's dead."

    "Who's dead?" asks Firepool.

    "Blazefur..." she whimpers.

    We scan the field, and suddenly a cackling noise echoes off the stone walls.

    Bonemoon is there, alone.

    Sunshadow yells, "Murderer!" The clan takes up the yowl, but Bonemoon just laughs. "Good luck, especially now that your leader is feeling... quite off."

    He sneers at this, and when a few of our cats jump forwards, he disappears into the night, his scent gone as well.

    "Can you not smell anything?" I ask Firepool, who shakes his head.

    "Me neither." I mutter, and then I realize what's clogging up my nose.

    Beesting, Dragonwing, Lionfur, and Tigerfang lie dead on the cold earth.

    I look at each of the bodies in turn, horror crossing my face. Beesting, a warrior I didn't even know. I feel so guilty now, now that I'll never know her. The blurred eyes, old bones that cracked in the battle... I even see the scar that never healed, a painful remnant of the battle with StoneClan many moons ago. The next body is Dragonwing's- the queen who had been my companion so many times, lying still and bloody.

    Lionfur's body is just beyond that, my old friend...

    Then Tigerfang, who even though my hatred for him was strong until the end, never deserved to die. Not like this.

    "I have a gut feeling she's guilty." Was I? Was it just love for his kit that propelled him to hate me so much? Did I have him wrong the entire time?

    Just as Mothstar said, Blazefur's body is just a little while off.

    Luckily, Bluefrost and the others who came in the starting patrol are still alive, but that's no conscolence.

    Tonight, the clan has more to mourn than Hawkfrost. Many, many more.

    With a solid thud, Mothstar's eyes roll up into her head and she slumps to the ground.