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This is what we know:

My littermate murdered his mentor after three days gone missing in the forest of stones.

My sister Larkpaw and I watched it happen, and we did nothing. We weren't paralyzed, we weren't surprised, we didn't try to stop it.

We didn't bury the body. We didn't tell a soul.

One sunrise ago I found Heronpaw muttering hymns in his sleep. Larkpaw said she witnessed him ripping out his fur. Ploverpaw is the only one who seems to reach him these days.

This is what we know.

But we still don't know why.

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