No. Foxpaw breathed sharply. Dead? Cindersky? She was dead? Foxpaw didn't like most cats, but part of it stemmed from fear, just the idea that she would latch on to someone and they would end up hating her. But there was also this. That she would respect someone, look up to them, trust them to do the right thing, and then they would disappear- no, not disappear, die. Say it as it is, it'll numb the pain. You can't tell lies with that words. She blinked back the tears as she continued listening. She had hoped that someone would be able to watch her become a warrior. Whitewolf, Cindersky, her brother. Had she been better there would have seen it, moons ago. But she was a lazy slug and it was awfully hard to change.