pafp IN THIS CITY'S BARREN COLD — return

[CLAYFUR]

Nobody in their right mind would refer to Clay as a responsible, logical adult. To most, he's a large child at worst, and to some he's a grown-ass man who has been caught shoving inedible things into his mouth at the most inopportune times. He is not exactly known for making great decisions—or even just good ones. He believes that in the face of danger, his own safety is negligible. it's almost as though he looks for situations in which he can put himself and his health on the line, but that's certainly not the case. He's simply an idiotic, caring warrior who doesn't consider the fact that he's not totally invincible and could easily die and no one could do anything about it, because Clayfur isn't a star and doesn't have nine lives to fall back on if he digs himself into too deep a hole to climb out of. So when Greenpaw had come to RiverClan, pleading for aid because the moor-running rats were attacking SkyClan, Clayfur had been among those who wanted to go and help out the other clan.

But for once, Clay's reckless nature hasn't led him into danger. His somehow fucked-up hips are like, sorta constantly aching now that there's snow and ice everywhere, and they've protested enough to hold him back in camp for the day. So there's just no way that he'll manage a trek all the way over to SkyClan's border and then back, not to mention the whole WindClan is attacking part. And honestly, it's kind of for the best that he remains in camp while some of his clanmates are gone. It's just like the Gatherings, he thinks—he misses out on a lot, but RiverClan needs someone kind of capable of defending the emptier-than-usual camp. With both Willowroot and Boneripple's kits puttering around the place, there's a lot at risk with less cats around to protect them.

Now, he's massively regretting not going with the group that went to help SkyClan. Because Clearsight had gone. Because Darkpaw and Iciclepaw had gone. Because Gillpaw had gone. Because Cicadastar and Smokethroat had gone. Because so many cats he cared so deeply for had gone. And now instead of sleeping off his pain, the chocolate-striped tom stares off into the trees, mind racing with all the worst possibilities. Sootstar is ruthless, as are her warriors. What if Weaselclaw wasn't satisfied with the eye he'd taken, and wants more? Smokethroat can't stand to lose another, and Gillpaw would look pitiful with only one golden eye on his face. And his niece and nephew—he feels nearly sick, imagining what could happen to them out there. What if something awful happens to them? What if Smokethroat can't keep Iciclepaw safe? What if Darkpaw's too softhearted to defend himself? Clearsight, though, he feels a bit guilty to say he's worried the most about his sunny-eyed warrior. Clay doesn't think he could handle seeing him hurt again. He stays in the same spot the entire time they're gone; he can't possibly go out and try to hunt under the haevy snowfall, and he doesn't let himself think too much, until a significant amount of time has passed and no one has shown up yet. Not a single RiverClanner has returned. It's been too long, hasn't it? Oh stars, what if the WindClanners got them all?

(If they don't come back, then who will lead the clan? Beesong? They're a nice cat, but definitely not cut out for it. Lightningstone would be a good choice, but he's also kind of a jerk so maybe not him, actually. Snakeblink, bless him, would probably get them all killed or something. And Gannetstar is a terrible name. Boneripple is in the nursery, and her mate isn't trustworthy yet. So that just leaves...

Oh no.

If everyone out there dies, that means Redpath will be the leader.)

RiverClan couldn't survive if the entire patrol got wiped out. And surely WindClan couldn't take out all of SkyClan and RiverClan's forces, but what if they did? What if Hyacinthbreath betrayed them, even though she seems trustworthy and totally, painfully normal in RiverClan? He's not going to be able to sleep, even if he tries, until they return. But he lets the rest of the clan do as they please, and tells the next warrior on guard duty that they can spend the time resting instead, because he isn't moving until he sees that calico-patched pelt, that special pebble, those sunflower-yellow eyes.

Clayfur rests on his haunches at the stepping stones that cross the river, hazel eyes nearly slipping shut, head bobbing every so often. It seems he hasn't made the best choice in staying, because waiting up at the entrance to RiverClan's camp has made him more tired than usual. There's no adrenaline rush to keep him going, only the swirl of anxiety, the churning of fear in his stomach, the squeezing of his heart in his chest. "When do you think they'll come back?" He murmurs the question anxiously, tilting his head toward the clanmate at his side.


// @CLEARSIGHT !!!
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[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]​

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[CLEARSIGHT]

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➵ They stumble home through the cold, injured and exhausted — Clearsight keeps an eye out for @GILLPAW, and for Mudpelt's little one, @DARKPAW — he knows this is the first time the latter has ever seen battle.

They'd done what they could — come to their allies' aid, forced WindClan to retreat.

Now they return, bloody and snow-caked.

Will it be enough, Clearsight wonders. Had they saved anything, anyone by going? He doesn't even know the state of the SkyClan camp — the casualties RiverClan might have faced in the other battle. He grits his teeth against the cold and forges on. If his clanmates are dead, they're dead. He won't know until he knows, and until then, worrying achieves nothing.

He makes sure to keep tabs on the apprentices, above all. They fought well for their clan today, and Clearsight will make damn sure they get home safely. He murmurs an encouragement to @RAVENPAW., walking just behind him — "nearly there now" — and gently presses his nose to the top of Gillpaw's head in a soft encouragement. He shares a tight smile with @cranecatcher, trudging at his other side. The snow is falling so heavily, they can hardly see one another.

But there —

Up ahead, finally.

"Home," Clearsight breathes. The camp entrance, just ahead — little stream frozen over, stepping stones poking up from the ice —

And he recognizes that slanted seat, leg extended, that snow-flecked earthen fur. "Clayfur," he calls, voice hoarse from the shouting and screeching of battle.

We're alive. My love, we're home.

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& we've all got battle scars ✗ ​

 

[Condorcackle]

"Well, I suppose it can't be much longer now. Perhaps-" The silver bengal cut himself off, striped ears twitching. The sound of crunching snow was easy to pick up, echoing through the frosted air. "I'd say just about now, actually," he meows, glancing at Clayfur with a lopsided grin. He'd seen just how anxious the other tom had been, pacing and pacing and eventually settling to sit and stare out the camp entrance for who knows how long by now. Condorcackle was not exactly good with his words, so he'd come to sit in silence with him by the river stones. Finally, that silence was being broken.

He watches as the patrol slowly comes into view, bloody, bruised, but alive. That was all Condorcackle could have hoped for. He stepped back a pace, knowing that Clayfur was about to jump out of his fur, now that Clearsight had returned. Good for them, he thought. It would have broken his heart if he'd had to see Clayfur end his watch in grief.

 

[GREENEYES]

Their visitor naps within the river's medicine den. It's a needed rest from his urgent journey to the neighboring clan, though Greenpaw's slumber is hardly restful. It's light, left on alert for any sign of a return from the clan that harbors him, for any news to come of his own. Hopefully successful news - a failure in whatever WindClan was attempting to succeed in by their invasion.

A voice he'd only first heard from earlier in the day breaks through the river-dwellers' camp. It stirs the apprentice awake, his heart pounding as his bright gaze looks around. Was this the sign he'd been waiting for?

Greenpaw rises to his paws, poking his head out of the medicine den to investigate, to search for the good news he'd been left in RiverClan's camp to wait for. "What's happening?" he asks the nearest cat, "Are... Are they back?"
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[RAVENSONG]

He's lucky to have not suffered any open wounds. The apprentice brought home only a wounded ego and a mind-numbing headache. He could hardly walk on the way back, his vision blurring as his paws became only two dark shadows in front of him. The voices of the others moved through his ears like molasses. And then, suddenly—Clearsight spoke directly to him.

Ravenpaw's head snapped up, a tired look betraying itself on his sharp features. He sees the entrance of the camp and even though he had scorned his father several times for bringing him here, all he can think of when he sees it is home. Fine, he'll call it home this one time. Ravenpaw bounded forward, paws aching. He opened his jaws, breathing in the familiar scent of the RiverClan cats.

"They've retreated. WindClan." Ravenpaw assured Greenpaw, recognizing the SkyClan apprentice peeking out of the medicine den. StarClan, Ravenpaw could use a long nap after this.​