Twistedblaze's ears pricked when he heard a scuffling of paws inside the den. He had refused to sleep in the leader's den the night before, partially out of grief for his leader and partially to comfort the rest of the warriors in the den. His side, where he knew Blastclaws usually slept, was cold, and he sensed an absence of some sort in the air. Had Blastclaws gone out for a walk? He didn't doubt it.
Soon enough, the sharp, foul tang hit his nose. Vomit. Fear. Death. "Blastclaws? Is everything--" As he rose to his paws, he froze. Nightwatcher was standing there, horrified. That must be where the fear-scent came from. And lying outside... Twistedblaze didn't want to believe it. His whiskers flattened against his face and his ears swiveled to the sides as his tail lashed. He wanted to do anything but see this.
Blastclaws... The deputy's lifeless form was sitting on the ground in a small, vile puddle of puke. Twistedblaze could see the signs of a struggle. He couldn't believe anything could happen to his great friend. He was like a brother to me.