Flu Game // WindClan Skirmish Return

[Aspenhaze]

It wasn't any surprise that RiverClan had won this battle with WindClan, Aspenhaze thinks to themself as they, their apprentice, and all the others slowly made their way back to camp. It barely even felt like a fight, really. They didn't get to dirty their claws like they would have liked to, but alas...at least they still got one strike off. They're also immensely proud of their apprentice, and they show it in their body movement while they stay by her side, smile sticking to their face, posture pristine. Although, they also take the chance to send Hyacinthbreath a glare, the refugee haven gotten their ire. Ah well, they can deal with her later. Right now, their decisive win is what truly matters.

When they're all back, Aspenhaze turns their attention back to their fellow partakers. "Remember to do as Smokethroat said, and go check in with Beesong if you are injured. Take pride, too." They then turn their attention to Mosspaw. "You as well, you did a great job. I'm very proud of you." Their lips curl even further, beaming with pride. "I know it wasn't how you were expecting the patrol to go, but you proved ready despite. I'm glad I got to see you in action." They nod, then switch their gaze to Cicadastar, wondering what his thoughts are.

// OOC : Tagging participants! @CICADASTAR @Smokethroat @CLAYFUR @lichentail @hyacinthbreath @Mosspaw ​

 

[hyacinthbreath]

Hyacinthbreath lags behind the group as they march back to camp in their victory. She doesn't share their cheery-eyed bellows of victory, their happiness at having won a step over WindClan. Why? She doesn't understand herself. Perhaps she finds no glory in killing any longer, or perhaps because she knows she won't get off without punishment. Aspenhaze's glare is met with Hyacinthbreath's own lowering of her head in shame, the molly seating herself quietly amongst the celebrating RiverClanners. Awaiting her doom, she'd think.​

RIVERCLAN WARRIOR ✦ WARTORN SOLDIER ✦ 53 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[CLAYFUR]

The rage that had flared in his chest when Hyacinthbreath attempted to convince her son to leave—it’s only grown, now. He’d watched her son leap from the bridge, watched the warrior herself drag a WindClanner from the river. How does she decide which enemies deserve death at any cost, and which enemies deserve to be saved? He grimaces at the thought, aching to sink his claws into something. His jaw twitches with the remnants of adrenaline from the fight.

All in all, his wounds aren’t that bad; a scratch here, a bite there. The WindClanner he’d fought wasn’t particularly powerful. He could have killed them, a child of Hyacinthbreath, if the moor-dwelling warrior hadn’t thrown themself over the side of the bridge. He’d not gotten the revenge that he wanted, but his enemy still walked away badly wounded. If they’re lucky, they’ll die of their injuries or drown in the river. If they’re unlucky, they’ll face Clay in battle again someday.

Still, for the first time in a long time, Clay feels truly happy. In some small way, he fought with the force of his mate at his side, and RiverClan won. He won. He looks around to his clanmates, searching for injuries. Aspenhaze has already told them to go to Bee if they need help, so Clayfur stands to the side, awaiting any sort of statement from Cicada.​

[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]​

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[SMOKESTAR]

He almost repeats his demands to see a healer but thankfully the tortie does so for him and he only nods in quiet confirmation without a word. He's tired, but in a different way than normal; a mental exhaustion that made his head want to hit the ground into slumb until the world melted around him but there were still things to do and he was not wounded in any way that required the medicine cat to waste his time so he glanced around to quickly scan the returning patrol for his mate's towering form before giving up and looking inward to the camp.
"You're training her well, Aspenhaze." He passes mentor and apprentice at the congratulations, dips his blood matted head in a curt nod toward Mosspaw and a rare smile of pride. Her swiftness had brought them the patrol needed for victory, a well-deserved one over WindClan that they had sorely needed in these past moons. "No hesitation, fast as a swooping hawk." Smokethroat does not often give 'good jobs' because he doesn't believe in unecessrily inflating young egos but this warranted at least some acknowedgement.
Out of the corner of his eye, like an unwanted blemish, he sees faint silver fur and chooses to ignore it entirely becuse he did not want to immediately dampen their victory and return by screaming obsceneties into that wretches face; in face, he would prefer if she just went somewhere else for the time being. Maybe even leave on her own, the stars know she has no true loyalty to this place. Who knew what nonsense she was fueling into her apprentice she had finally been trusted with. It makes him irrate.
The dark tom's orange eye moves from he unseemly figure to Clayfur, looking surprisingly pleased with himself despite not generally being big on battles to begin with. The only real downside to their win was that Cicadastar was going to talk their ears off at any moment and he shook his head in amusement at the thought; full of hot air, that was the one he picked. The long limbed bastard who preended and crowed like a fancy bird for hours at a time.
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[lichenstar]

For only the entire miserable walk back, Lichentail had spent all that time regretting not being more careful. RiverClan had won and she had certainly given that bi-colored molly a run for her prey, but the stinging and insistent bleeding where Cloudedsky had practically carved out a goodbye note reaching from her withers towards her chest- that was a frustrating loss to take on a personal level. Her paw-steps were stiff, every movement a staggering bolt of pain to contend with.... She hardly noticed the bite at her neck in comparison.

Picking her head up to look at the rest of the group heading into the safe embrace of their camp, the blue molly let out a big breath in an effort to steady herself the last bit of the way. Aspenhaze mentioned something about seeing Beesong and then the conversation quickly moved to praising Mosspaw (what a splendid display from that kid, she couldn't argue with the singing of joy from the other warriors).

"Faster than any fish in the river's rapids you were," she encouraged, pausing to sit down and rest before the insufferable last few strides towards the medicine cat's den. What a feat... to have sprinted from WindClan's border and back again just to throw herself into the heat of combat. A heroic venture. Truly a good sign for the future of the clan if this was how the younger generation was shaping up.

Casting a sidelong glance at Clayfur, she offered her clan-mate a gentle smile, glad to see him virtually unharmed. There was a part of her that was annoyed with herself to be the only one still bleeding and wincing like a kitten with a torn claw but... victory was victory.

Hyacinthbreath moved to the outskirts of their little group, signaling to everyone involved that she knew she'd overstepped... made a mistake. Smokethroat opting to silence was all the hint she needed that this wasn't the time... not yet. Hopefully Cicadastar would allow them all a moment to let that silver snake get a piece of their minds.

"I... will go see Beesong," she announced, mostly to herself as she mustered up the courage to stand up again and get moving.

@BEESONG [ tagging for mention / interaction! ]​

 

[Mosspool]

Exhaustion hung heavy over Mosspaw as she padded along with her clanmates. Each of her steps were sluggish and her breaths were ragged. Every few seconds she would fall just a little too far behind and have to pick up her pace in order to catch back up. In the midst of the battle, adrenaline had been enough to propel her forward. Now, she felt like any moment she might fall over.

In spite of that, satisfaction oozed from her. She had done Riverclan proud. Her first battle and her first victory. The first of many, she reassured herself. One day, she would make all her clans enemies pay for what they had done. Until then, she would take pride in the memory of charging toward the bridge alongside her clanmates.

Her mentor reminded them all to go see Beesong if they were injured. She thought she had little need for that. The only injury she had suffered during the battle was a slash across the bridge of her nose. It still stung, but it was nothing to fuss over.

The details of that battle, though, still troubled her. It was a small thing. It shouldn't have bothered her, but she couldn't stop thinking about it. Over and over, she ran through it in her mind. Her fight with the Windclan apprentice had been messy and confused on both sides, nothing like her training. All the practice she had put into her combat training had felt lost to her the moment the confused scuffle began.

It didn't matter, she told herself. Either way, she had forced the Windclanner to retreat. She had won.

The thought that she should have done more wouldn't leave her though. If she had fought better, she could have pinned her opponent down and taken revenge for her clan.

The compliments of her clanmates drew her from her thoughts, and she visibly shone with pride. Improving her combat skills could come later, now was the time for celebration. Mosspaw dipped her head in modest acknowledgement of their words. "Thank you."​

 

[RAVENSONG]

Expected to be following on the heels of his mentor, Ravenpaw appeared shortly. The young cat's nose flared as he tasted the air, sensing the rather evident signs of a fight.

"What happened?" He rasped, eyes half-narrowed as he gave the patrol a brief look-over. He was ready on the stand-by to help Beesong as needed, but at the very least he could make himself useful by inspecting some of the wounds and reporting it. He hated to witness it, but it felt as if every other patrol that came back returned with some amount of injuries.

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[iciclefang]

Smokethroat’s patrol returns, all of them bearing wounds—some more than others. This is not a patrol full of defeated cats, however; each of them shares a glow of pride, even young Mosspaw, who is praised not only by Aspenhaze but Smokethroat, too. Iciclefang’s eyes glitter; she steps next to Ravenpaw to greet them, her tail lashing in excitement. “WindClan,” she explains to the medicine cat apprentice. She hadn’t been there, but she’d heard Cicadastar and Mosspaw before they’d left. “Looks like it was a good fight.” She eyes Lichentail in particular, whose gray pelt is littered with clawmarks, and then turns her attention to Hyacinthbreath.

The tabby she-cat almost cowers from the glares of her Clanmates. Iciclefang does not miss this; her eyes thin like melting shards of ice, but she says nothing, turning her attention to Cicadastar. “Wish I’d been on that patrol. I haven’t gotten the chance to repay a certain WindClanner yet.”
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[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[dovethroat.]

Dovepaw arrives a little bit later than most of them, stumbling in his gait as he made it to the border. He is not mangled, but it is probable that he is among the most injured in the group. Perhaps it would be an adequate comparison to line him up next to Lichentail, albeit with wounds inflected in a less personal way. It was, for all purposes, his first fight. He had been present for the two losses that RiverClan had suffered, but he had hardly participated.

His first fight aside from—whatever. It didn't matter. He pointedly did not look at him as he approached the border.

In this skirmish, there was no hope of hiding from such a small crowd. He had been found out, and he had held back—he did not want to hurt anyone.

Nobody seemed to have noticed, though. Maybe they just thought he was bad—and he was not great, so he could not get angry at them for it. He'd rather not be discovered in some sort of pathetic semi-traitorous behavior. RiverClan seemed more crazy by the day about any whiff of "treason".

His flank and chest are littered with marks of battle, blood staining his light-colored pelt. His nose has a nasty looking scratch imbedded into it, and every step hurts. Dovepaw worries that one of those scratches on his stomach region is deeper than he'd like to imagine. He collapses into a heap as safely as he can manage. In all honestly, he has to restrain himself to not tell Iciclefang to can it.

"I, uh, I... I th-think I n-need help," Dovepaw heaves.

[⋆]​

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[lichenstar]

It seemed she was lucky enough not to have to travel much further as the soot-colored pelt of Ravenpaw whisked itself from the confines of the herb-scented den to investigate. She opened her mouth to speak and explain the joyous victory they had secured (though not unscathed... clearly) when Iciclefang cut in to offer a very short explanation.

Her child-like complaint to have wished to be there only proved to get under her skin... War wasn't some great glory to aspire towards. It was a necessity, something to be avoided if only to spare young RiverClan lives. The sound of a smaller body crumpling behind her proved the point's whole ideology... Dovepaw had been just as brutally fought as she had. Wincing as she turned to return to the poor boy's side, the blue molly sat with tired eyes, looking over the blood that stained his pale fur.

"You're alright Dovepaw, try not to panic."

Eyes flickering to Ravenpaw, they flick their tail in a beckoning motion, "Let's see those paws moving, yes Ravenpaw? I can wait until he's taken care of..."​