border I'M MADE OF WAX, LARRY, WHAT ARE YOU MADE OF — refugee

[GRANITEPELT]

Granitepelt’s claws, wrenched and clotted with drying blood, scrabble against the asphalt dividing ShadowClan from WindClan. It is not safe for him to trespass—not yet—but it is doubly unsafe to remain in the mire where his former Clanmates still lurked in shadows. His flanks heave with exhaustion; one eye is half-closed from the beating he’d received from Smogmaw, and there are scratches littering his body. One particularly nasty cut swells against his shoulder; blood wells uncomfortably from a wound inflicted to the soft ivory of his belly; his foreleg is stiffening with every blundering step. He has to take his chances with Sootstar’s warriors, or risk certain death at the claws of a Clan that has forsaken him.

He half-turns, still, despite everything, expecting to see Siltcloud. There’s no sign of her anymore—she had made her intentions clear. He has lost his Clan, his kits, the few among ShadowClan he could call companions, and he has lost his littermate.

It would not do to think of Starlingheart at a time like this—not when he is half-dead, not when he must set things straight.

“WindClan,” he says, staggering to the edge of their moor and crouching submissively. “I come seeking Sootstar. She knows me—I brought her the kits. I am—” He coughs. A wad of scarlet phlegm decorates the side of the Thunderpath. “—I am her cat, through and through, but there are those among your Clan that are not,”

And he looks up, tilts his head toward the patrol of bristling cats, of warriors with gleaming eyes and claws, and he says, “There is a traitor’s name I think your leader would like to hear. The kits were returned to ShadowClan. I know who is responsible.”

[ this thread is currently CLOSED unless you are tagged :) @hollowcreek @MOCKING-GRIN @Thriftfeather @DUSTWHISKER @juncopaw @GHOSTPAW. ]

, ”​

​

 

[GHOSTMASK]

When Ghostpaw materializes from the blackness of the marsh, everything is said and done. Her father, run off the territory; her aunt, nowhere to be found. Granitepelt's forlorn stone form is laced with scratches and lumps, blood staining his white belly and one eye swollen half-shut. Her steps are gossamer, blooming ice, dewy spiderwebs as she draws out of the mire steeped in blood. The tears so easily coaxed from her eyes not a turn of the sun ago are dried and gone; her pelt carries traces of mud and wild garlic. She watches him with impassive black eyes as she steps closer to the Thunderpath, and further from everything she's ever known.

She is not Flintpaw, or Nettlepaw. She is not her father's favorite, not by a long shot, but neither is she weak. Flintpaw had splintered into a thousand shards while everyone watched, wavering, unable to commit to the correctness of Granitepelt's crazed words. Nettlepaw had cried, so weakly, so whinily. She has the sense to follow her father, and she has the sense to do it when everyone has gotten their taste of his blood.

Because what is left there for her? Eyes watching her every pawstep, her mother and siblings sobbing for all to hear, spending the rest of her life in the pawprints of a traitor? A life under constant surveillance is no life at all. No, better to follow him. To better places. To be better than he has been.

"Father," she says when she steps from the shadows. He is grovelling at the Thunderpath's edge and it is all she can do not to turn away from his weakness. Ghostpaw watches the bristling WindClanners with shining blue-black eyes. "I would like to come with my father, if I may. There is nothing left for me in ShadowClan."

i found the man who created me ✶ ( and tore him limb from limb )

• 

• 

  ghostpaw ; apprentice of shadowclan
  x. she/her ; 6 moons ; tags
  x. slender black she-cat with white mask & pants and dark blue-black eyes
  x. played by dejavu
  x. daughter of starlingheart and granitepelt; sister to nettlepaw and flintpaw. apprentice to her aunt, lilacfur.

​

 

[Thriftfeather]

Thriftfeather smells blood before he even sees the ShadowClanner. At a glance—bleeding and slouched—Thriftfeather mistakes him for a rogue and bristles as he approaches. The shapes right themselves; the contrasting scents settle into something recognizable. Granitepelt, Thriftfeather knows, but not the shadow of an apprentice that slinks in his wake.

Instinctively, he glances to one of the other warriors nearby to wait for direction and then, remembering his rank, looks back to Granitepelt and listens. The immediate disgust he feels is immeasurable—hypocritical, maybe. He has a face to the mysterious cat who had stolen kits for the sake of WindClan. Beneath the buzz in his ears, Thriftfeather tries to find understanding. He has a face now; he’s never been good at hating a face.

The wrongness of it all registers to Thriftfeather distantly, under the buzz.

“Sootstar gave a life for those kits,” Thriftfeather says, like he is walking himself through the thought. Never before has he felt so much like a child pretending to be large, “That’s what this—that’s who this patrol is for. If Granitepelt has information…” His eyes flick to the other ShadowClanner, then back, “He should meet with Sootstar.” He cannot help himself—he turns to his peers, eager to see if his assessment had been the correct one.​

WINDCLAN WARRIOR ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 9 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[juncoclaw]

-ˋˏ ༻☽༺ ˎˊ- To be hand-chosen by Sootstar to patrol to ShadowClan was a true honor to young Juncopaw, but she couldn't have anticipated what scene unfolds. Like Thriftfeather, she smells the blood before she sees it, and quickens her pace to keep up with the patrol until they were face-to-face with two strange ShadowClanners, one of which looks like he's been through a particular hell. It's not long before she understands why.

She never really cared about the two kits that were stolen; she never thought to ask why. They were a mere afterthought from the moment they were brought in, save for the fact that it gave WindClan loyalists a new point for their savior complex. When they were taken, she didn't spare a comforting glance to the queen who had been nursing them. All she cared about in that moment was seeking them home, to prove her dedication to Sootstar. To know now that they were safe in ShadowClan's camp infuriated her thusly.

Though some part of her wishes to snap at the warrior and his supposed child, to turn them away on the premise that they're ShadowClanners seeking refuge, she holds her tongue. Sootstar has taken in outsiders before; as long as they show their dedication to her, they're WindClan through and through. Juncopaw herself was the product of two rogues who went through such. Nonetheless, Granitepelt expresses that he's here for Sootstar anyway. If it's true that he brought the kits to WindClan, she wouldn't deny him that repayment, As she regards Ghostpaw, though.. that'd be up to the older cats entirely. Juncopaw couldn't guess if they would stay long enough to see Sootstar and become rogues, or be welcome into WindClan camp to stay forever.

A traitor is in our ranks. Though she could name off several cats who gave the impression of rebellion against Sootstar, which to her was anyone who didn't endlessly prove their loyalty like herself, the thought of an actual traitor still disturbed her. When Thriftfeather looks towards the rest of the patrol for approval, Juncopaw couldn't bring herself to reply with her usual spite. With all the ambiguity of the situation, for once Juncopaw remained completely silent, astonished at the bloody scene before her and the information that was just revealed, and shuffled closer to her mentor @MOCKING-GRIN , glancing up at him for guidance.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I AM THE ANGEL ⋅❁⋅ SENT DOWN FROM ABOVE ──┐‎

• 
  
  
  

• 

• 
  JUNCOPAW ✩ she/her, moor-runner apprentice of windclan, seven moons.
  ⭃ an antagonistic silver tabby she-cat with green eyes.
  ⭃ mate to no one. daughter to former gin rogues. apprentice of mocking-grin.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by ixora ↛ @.ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[hollowcreek]

( ✧ ) Go to the ShadowClan border, sniff around for some kits and if they're lucky they could intercept whatever adventure they had taken on. Simple instructions but Hollowcreek had practically felt the weight of responsibility bare on his shoulders. He is gifted with a patrol of mostly competent warriors and he's grateful none of those sniveling wheat-spined traitors are among his company. Sootstar had made sure of it.

They make it to the ShadowClan border but are greeted with something far more sinister than a smug patrol. A lone warrior stood, bloodied, addressing them as saviors. Sootstars informant, her little agent among the dark. Mischievous light found pale honey eyes and he cannot help but feel elated at the news as he looked down at the battered tom.

The traitor, or several, acted against their queen? And who else but ShadowClans lead warrior (former, he would assume now) to give his word? Oh what joy! What justice. Beside him another appears and addressed him in a way to identify her connection to her appearance. Kin. Though she remained untouched- so many questions.

"She did sacrifice a precious, vital life for those kits." Hollowcreek hummed with quivering whiskers as he thought. "Thriftfeather, my eager friend, return to Sootstar and warn her of what we return with. Don't tell this to any other soul until we get back." He turned to face the moors behind them for a moment before addressing the rest of the patrol.

"Until this information can be confirmed herself, the rest of you and myself will keep a close eye on our guests. Granitepelt, I'm sure you understand the need for caution. Your kin may join your travels but it is not up to me if she may stay." Hollowcreek backed away from the Thunderpath and looked behind the pair to see if any of ShadowClan lingered behind, but like their namesake he assumed they were carefully out of sight.
​

( I SEE YOUR COLLARBONE ; AND WANNA LOSE CONTROL )

 

[MOCKING-GRIN]

So this is the tom who helped us steal those kits. He was uncertain how Sootstar had managed to bring shadowclan kits within their ranks with ease, but now as mismatched eyes landed on the shadowclan tom in question it became clear. A traitor to Shadowclan, but an ally to the righteous. His fur bristles much like Thriftpaw, ready to give chase. Granite pelt is only spared because he mentioned the name of their leader. His claws will remain unsheathed for the time being, but he doesn't fail to hide his interest. Who was the rat who betrayed Sootstar? Their leader had given her life for those kits only for them to be snatched away. He can't help but sneer at the thought. They would have been fine Windclanners.

Thriftfeather a new warrior among them is the first to voice his opinion as if his words held any real power. Don't think you're all that yet Thriftfeather. The child beside Granitepelt is met with a wave from him. She is merely a child surrounded by warriors save for Juncopaw. She was no threat to put it simply and if she wanted to be with her father, the shadowclanner who betrayed his own clan for a just purpose then he was confident that she would not betray them. Although, he was no fool and would keep an eye on her to see if she remained in line.

Juncopaw's glance is acknowledged, he meets eyes with her for only a moment before tilting his head towards Thriftfeather. Until, Hollowcreek buts in. An irritated roll of his eyes he gives when the other tom more or less states what he wanted to say. "Is it wise to bring Granitepelt so suddenly? The traitor has no idea they are about to be exposed. It would be better to meet away from prying eyes and learn the truth." Mocking-grin is not dull by any means, but he would prefer it if they had the element of surprise. If there was someone within their ranks who betrayed them, then wouldn't it be better to leave them in the dark a little longer?

He focuses his attention to Hollowcreek and adds with a sly grin "Let the traitor remain clueless for a while longer. Let them be uneasy, questioning whether or not anyone knows what they have done. Rattle them to their bones so when we do sink our claws into them, they would find themselves wishing they never lifted a claw against Sootstar." We'll find you one way or another.

It's then that he remembers Granitepelt's daughter beside the tom and he glances at her. It is true that none of them have the authority to take her in, but he sees no point in fighting her or chasing her off. It would be dangerous if she returned, she could tell Shadowclan what happened. "I see no issues with this kit joining us on our travels. As Hollowcreek has said, it is not up to us to decide if she can stay."

OOC NOTES . ◭ . CHARACTER INFO

• ooc : —
  
• — mocking-grin / windclan moor runner / masculine pronouns / 24 moons
  — heterosexual / single / looking / open to flirting and crushes
  — high white long haired chocolate smoke with heterochromia
  — may powerplay minor harm / can powerplay healing
  — biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by velou

​

 

[DUSTWHISKER]

The stark scent of blood masking over any possible trace of WindClan's missing kits can't be a good thing, Dustwhisker figures, as they grow closer to their destination. Their mission could be cut short from here, could end in tragedy, the moor-growing kits slain by a hawk, or, perhaps worse - those of their former home, marsh-dwellers who can barely take care of their own.

The tunneler doesn't particularly care for Larkkit and Ouzelkit - or, really, any of the whining brats that slumber in the moor's nursery - but their disappearance will be a blight on the moor's future generations, a marring of WindClan's strength in numbers. More victims to the stars' blood-thirsty regime, if the patrol's growing surroundings tell him anything.

They don't.

What they near is not the unmoving forms of two, but a lone warrior, torn apart by harsh clawstrikes - his unsheathe, prepare to do the same - stumbling forward, stammering out a plea. He is the cat who brought over their missing kits.

"Didn't do too good of a job," he mutters with a dismissive flick of the tail as Granitepelt continues speaking. A claim that he is one his leader's cats is a large one, one that some of Dustwhisker's lower-minded clanmates can't even make. Dull eyes narrow at the marsh-born tom, a torn ear twitching at his words. He knows, the warrior says, he knows who's responsible.

His gaze darts to another form that emerges - one younger, injury free, as she stands beside the gray tom. Father, she touts him as, a wish of her own to join him. Dustwhisker can't help but snort at Granitepelt's follower, despite knowing he would've followed his own, too.

"So what?" he turns to Mocking-grin as the moor runner speaks his piece, "We leave him here to bleed out? Sootstar should know who betrayed her - leaving him to die won't give her an answer." Hollowcreek gives a better solution - for Thriftfeather to retrieve their leader, to bring her here to heed the marsh-traitor's explanation. Dustwhisker gives a nod to the patrol leader, his gaze returning to the refuge-seekers across the way as Mocking-grin speaks again.

"An apprentice for our kits sounds like a fair trade," he notes with a sneering tone. Granitepelt's daughter wouldn't be a fresh slate, wouldn't have to be trained from nothing to become a strong WindClan warrior like Larkkit and Ouzelkit would've needed.
​

 

[juncoclaw]

-ˋˏ ༻☽༺ ˎˊ- Juncopaw's paws shifted warily as her patrol-mates debated the best course of action. She didn't complain when Thriftfeather was sent to fetch Sootstar, as she had no problem keeping the ShadowClan warriors in check (the fight-hungry part of her wished there was some provocation from them to retaliate with), but she was surprised that she wasn't sent in their place as a means of just getting out of everyone else's fur.

Juncopaw lowered her head when the mention of the adder bite came into conversation. They were right that Sootstar gave a life for those kits; the fact that they were brought home after such a sacrifice put it in vain, and bothered her even further. Whoever betrayed their leader was making a mockery of that life lost, of her, of WindClan. When the brief debate took hold, she gave another glance up towards Mockinggrin. "I agree with Dustwhisker and Hollowcreek. This needs to be dealt with quickly, I think. We'd be giving the traitor too much time to betray us even more if we wait." Though she would have been equally amused to let the traitor suffer after a period of blissful unawareness, she didn't want to risk another situation like this. For Juncopaw, this was a rare moment of intelligence and keeping her sharp tongue in check: this wasn't worth bickering and antagonizing others over, not like usual.

Finally, the silver apprentice turned her gaze towards Ghostpaw again. She looked to be about her age, and seemed confident enough. There was talk about potentially bringing her in, if Sootstar allows it, and Dustwhisker's comment on a fair trade was agreeable. "Think you have what it takes?" she inquired, more serious than smug for once. She didn't know how apprentices in ShadowClan were trained, but with all the talk of negligence on their side, she guessed that WindClan mentors were much more strict and involved. It's no walk in the park.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I AM THE ANGEL ⋅❁⋅ SENT DOWN FROM ABOVE ──┐‎

• 
  
  
  

• 

• 
  JUNCOPAW ✩ she/her, moor-runner apprentice of windclan, seven moons.
  ⭃ an antagonistic silver tabby she-cat with green eyes.
  ⭃ mate to no one. daughter to former gin rogues. apprentice of mocking-grin.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by ixora ↛ @.ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[Thriftfeather]

Granitepelt is bleeding. Thriftfeather's nervous green eyes flick between Hollowcreek and Granitepelt—the rest of the patrol and Granitepelt. He feels, perhaps absurdly, that he should point out that Granitepelt is bleeding. He considers telling this to Hollowcreek or to anyone who seems as though they would listen. He thinks he should suggest getting the medicine cat, because surely something should be done about the blood before serious matters are discussed.

But any and all mentions of Granitepelt's physical state leave out such words as Wolfsong or even cobwebs. In his own introduction to the clan, Thriftfeather had bled even as he had been named; the treatment had come after. It should be suiting then, somehow, that Sootstar comes first. And darkly, Thriftfeather considers, he doesn't know who the traitor is. It really could be anyone.

"Okay," Thriftfeather nods to Hollowcreek, his own voice unusually subdued.

Nothing about this situation is right. There are countless things Thriftfeather considers saying—can't anyone else see how none of this is right?—but he never did learn how to be brave in any way that matters. He turns his head campward instead, inhales and holds the breath to feel the stretch of his lungs: his only allowed hesitation. Then, Thriftfeather springs into a sprint with the same abruptness as a startled deer. The ground blurs beneath him, and time slips.

He arrives at camp open-mouth panting as a dog would, but slows only to duck through the gorse tunnel, conscious of its thorns. Thriftfeather doesn't walk to Sootstar, but his paws carry him to her regardless. He recalls the countless patrol reports he had listened in on with only half an ear—the way the other warriors had stood, the tone they had used, and copies that to the best of his breathless ability.

"Sootstar, it's—" His chest heaves as he stumbles over his words, disfluent to how he stands with his chin angled ever so slightly upwards, "The patrol found something but it's—it's very important that you come and see for yourself. We should hurry, but I can show you the way."​

@SOOTSTAR

WINDCLAN WARRIOR ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 9 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[SOOTSTAR]

The newly named warrior stands before her with his chest heaving with effort, he looks as if he's just ran ten laps around the enritiy of Rabbit's Run and back. She looks to him now, eyes wide with alarm and she begins to fret this urgency must mean ShadowClan found the kits and now her clan faces their ire. Yet instead of pleading for backup Thriftfeather informs they've found 'something important' that she needed to come see for herself. All of this seems... vague. A knot twists in her stomach and she glances around wearily before at least nodding, "Let's go."

Following the golden striped tabby through the moors she eyes the horizon nervously. What could it be? Had the kits been found in a less-than-pleasant fashion? Have they been killed? If so why did Thriftfeather not just say so? Yet WindClan could not be under attack... she had failed to catch any panic in the feline's voice.

Thriftfeather takes her to the very outskirts of the territory, they settle just fox-lenghts away from the ShadowClan border. The patrol she had organized is clustered together, they break their formation revealing something most shocking.

Granitepelt.

Sootstar is stunned, she looks at him, jaw agape. What in blazes was he doing here? Confusion is evident in her face as she reluctantly draws her lips back and snarls, "Granitepelt..." his name spoken through her teeth. He was torn up and bloodied as if just having fought tens of warriors. Eyes shift, she places a glare upon a young she-cat with a white mask across her face. The cat looks familiar from her brief stay in ShadowClan but she fears they've never been acquainted; she doesn't recognize her or take her to be the child of the tom she's worked so closely with. If it wasn't for Thriftfeather's words she might've not known better and believed him to be here on ShadowClan business, but something was wrong. She feels her grasp on the situation slipping through her claws, who now held it in their paws she does not know.

She is scared.

"What is it? What are you doing here? What's happened to you?" Has he come to warn her? Has ShadowClan found Larkkit and Ouzelkit? Even then, that did not explain how he stood bleeding onto her moorland.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Soot ․ Sootstar
  » WindClan Leader
  » She/her ․ Mate to Weaselclaw
  » Tiny blue smoke she-cat with green eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A high-stamina foe who can be difficult to hit.
  » Excels in quick, short moves.
  » Fights to kill and maim
  » Fatal attack of choice is an underbelly dive.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

The pawsteps behind him and the scent of ShadowClan musk on the breeze causes Granitepelt to bristle. He immediately thinks the worst—that his foes have chosen even to follow him here, to WindClan, that they’d surround him like a group of scavengers and pull apart what’s left of his body. When he turns to appraise the cat who had followed him here, he’s expecting to be met with a face full of claws. Instead, he sees black and white fur, unbloodied. His heartbeat stutters for the briefest, most foolish of moments. Starlingheart had changed her mind—she’d come with him—but no, it’s not Starlingheart, it’s her daughter.

Granitepelt’s eyes widen. For several heartbeats, he only stares at her—her, the she-kit, she of the cursed name, she of the snow-white face cloaked in ebony. Her voice is high and sweet as she addresses the WindClan warriors who come to accost them. “Father,” she calls him, and then turns toward a Clan she has known her whole life to be her enemy. “I would like to come with my father, if I may. There is nothing left for me in ShadowClan.”

“You… you followed me after all,” he murmurs, but he has no time to question her. A golden tabby regards him, Sootstar’s name on his lips. She gave a life for those kits. Granitepelt shakes his head. At a dark tabby’s word, the golden tom leaves to retrieve Sootstar. The patrol muses on the information he has to give them, but he presses his lips together until he sees the dark shape of the WindClan leader on the horizon. Her fur is buffeted by leafbare winds, and her expression is one adjacent to fear as she surveys the wounds inflicted on his body.

What’s happened to you, she asks, and Granitepelt slowly rises from his submissive crouch. To his leader, he bows his head. “Sootstar. I am sorry to show up like this, but I’ve been driven out of ShadowClan. Exiled.” The words bubble like blood on his lips. He pulls them back from his teeth in an angry sneer. “The kits we worked so hard to give a better life were returned to ShadowClan. I was exiled along with my sister. This—this is my daughter, Ghostpaw.” He exhales, his paws trembling with anger as he remembers the big, maned warrior who’d come to their border with two cavorting little kits, both of them spilling tales on their tongues.

“You should know that it was Sunstride who returned those kits to ShadowClan behind your back.” Granitepelt closes his eyes, as though it causes him pain to speak the words. “I’m sorry, Sootstar. Your deputy is a traitor.”

, ”​

​

 

[MOCKING-GRIN]

Despite his wishes it seemed like everyone was else thought it would be wiser for them to get on with it instead of letting the traitor squirm. He had forgotten that Granitepelt was injured and could actually die if they waited any longer. Well, he didn't forget that the tom was hurt more lie he didn't care for his health and more for what they could provide for Sootstar. With Dustwhisker and his own apprentice shutting down his idea, he simply sighs and grunts in understanding. Suffice to say that he will not be putting up a fight, understanding a consensus had been made.

All they can do is wait for Thriftfeather to retrieve Sootstar and when he does he will wait for the order. Judging by her reaction it seems like she knows him and the tom was honest in his words. While their leader demands an answer for what's happened to Granitepelt for him to show up wounded he doesn't care to be honest. Granitepelt is not his friend and whether or not the tom before them was exiled is not something he will feign pity for. What does catch his interest is when the gray tom brings up the fact that Sunstride returned those kits. Immediately he hisses in rage towards the news.

You have nothing to apologize for. You are not scum like the tom who betrayed us. What was he thinking?! It was clear. Sunstride betrayed them. His tail lashes behind him in fury. On good days he would be able to control himself better but how could he?! "Sunstride is no better than Badgermoon," he hisses to himself, but he is not quiet enough that the others can't hear his comment.

Then, he speaks in a more hushed tone towards his apprentice. "Sunstride is an enemy, you got that? Be prepared, Sootstar will deal with him and she needs our claws. We have a rat to eliminate."

OOC NOTES . ◭ . CHARACTER INFO

• ooc : —
  
• — mocking-grin / windclan moor runner / masculine pronouns / 24 moons
  — heterosexual / single / looking / open to flirting and crushes
  — high white long haired chocolate smoke with heterochromia
  — may powerplay minor harm / can powerplay healing
  — biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by velou

​

 

[SOOTSTAR]

Granitepelt takes to his paws with a bow of his head. He apologizes and informs her he's been driven out of ShadowClan, exiled. Sootstar looks at him and feels the shock that freezes up her body intensify. Did they find out Granitepelt's past crimes? Or... something worse- something bad for Sootstar? She thinks of the kits, of all the insider information and the secret tunnel she had used to meet with the exiled tom.

'The kits we worked so hard to give a better life were returned to ShadowClan.'

Her throat tightens, 'I was exiled along with my sister. This-this is my daughter, Ghostpaw'. Sootstar can barely stay present for the introduction, tears burning with wrath pour from her eyes. A foul expression turning the beautiful leader ugly is screwed upon her face, her body convulsing with rage.

Granitepelt has yet to tell her the worst of all.

'...It was Sunstride'

He closes his eyes, and Sootstar feels as though she leaves her body. Her head swells, her teeth bite down so hard she thinks they may shatter against each other's, her claws so firm in the earth she feels she may root herself where she stands. The name of the traitor echoes, screams in her mind again and again. She envisions blood staining his flame pelt, her claws goring into him, she sees the sandy hollow flooded with blood, before the day is over, she will bring about carnage.

Gin's rogue. Her lead warrior. Her deputy.

What was there to do when in the face of such treachery? Such humiliation? So many wrong choices in her time as leader, too many to count, and she's made another error... one far more fatal than the rest. What a difficult weed this would be to eradicate, but her garden would be tended to.

"...Come." Her voice is cold, void of any warmth. "Let's go home, all of us." She looks at Granitepelt, a fire in her eyes. She does not look at Ghostpaw and turn her away with a hiss, it's safe enough to assume she is welcomed to join them too.

Sootstar turns, pelt growing unruly as her anger travels across her body and her heart drums against her chest. All the way home the voices whisper.

’The wind will blow away what is left behind from fire, and it will blacken a forest once pure.’

☾ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Soot ․ Sootstar
  » WindClan Leader
  » She/her ․ Mate to Weaselclaw
  » Tiny blue smoke she-cat with green eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A high-stamina foe who can be difficult to hit.
  » Excels in quick, short moves.
  » Fights to kill and maim
  » Fatal attack of choice is an underbelly dive.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​