Troutleaf heard quickly thudding paws drawing near, so he shakily got to his feet. As he turned, Venomstar, his mother, raced up. Watching the horror and grief bloom across her face somehow made his heart hurt worse; he hadn't even thought that was possible... "Mo- Venomstar," he quickly corrected himself, voice trembling with grief and a rising anger, "I... I don't know for sure. I just... came out here alone to look for chervil, since most everyone else was still asleep, and I saw Mosswish lying under the snow! And I don't know for sure, but... I suspect she was murdered. These wounds were made by a cat. Like Stormpaw's. He may have been right after all," he growled, rage quickly swelling in him like a tide. "Whoever did this, I swear on Silverpelt, I'll kill them myself!" He flexed his claws into the frozen ground, but as his eye caught his sister's still, cold form again, he quickly deflated again, and the grief overtook the anger once more. "Mosswish... We need to take her back to camp. We have to let the others know." He tried to sound strong, and unperturbed, but the trembling in his limbs likely gave him away. They were going to bury his sister today. His sister! And a clanmate was responsible? "What do we do, mom?" Troutleaf said in a small voice, like he was a kit again. He wished he was. He wished that this was all a horrible kit-dream, and that he could wake up in the nest again, curled up with his siblings and mother. "What do we do?"