NOBODY CAME, WHAT A SHAME, SHAME, SHAME (after battle, confusion)

[Shimmerkit]

Sage crouched beside the nursery, watching her clanmates through wide blue eyes. She didn't understand. She knew that the clan needed to be fed, that the competition of the pine group made things harder, but what had the fighting solved? Nothing. Cats were injured, dead even! She didn't understand why they couldn't all just work together! And beyond all of that, now they were talking about dead cats coming down from the sky? Terrifying.

The girl looked down at her small paws, extending and retracting her claws. The memory of her father's battle training flashed through her mind. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to do it, especially kill a cat. Even if they were her enemies. The idea made her stomach twist. But she didn't say anything about it to anyone. She simply just tucked her feet beneath her chest and let out a small sigh. She didn't want anyone else to be hurt.

 

[FLICKERFIRE]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ At one time, it had seemed the camp had been full of kits. Just before the battle, really. Leaping Toad and Frog's Ribbit were young, but not incapable of battle--or so they had all thought. There had been no sign of Dewdrop or her litter, either, though no one seemed to know where they'd gone.

So Sage was alone, the youngest left in camp upon their return. Flicker remembers their hunting party finding her. Battered and small. The tortoiseshell's burning eyes fall on the small, pale femme, taking in the fear and uncertainty in her expression.

But Flicker doesn't know what to say to her, to anyone. She's carrying something heavy in her chest that she can't expel. It's preventing her from smiling, from laughing, from shouting. She wants to cry like Twilight. Wants to rage like Salamander. But she can't seem to do anything yet.

She lays herself onto the camp floor and begins to tentatively groom the blood from her fur. Moth's blood. The pine cat's blood--the one she had murdered. Ember's blood, though that battle is hazy to her at best. There's a faint trace of her own blood here, but not as much as there should have been.

Yes, we went for nothing, she wills her eyes to communicate to the bewildered blue-eyed child. We were fools. Learn from us. She wishes she could speak, but there's nothing to say. She cleans her claws and grimaces at the disgusting remnants of death that remain between them.
​

✦ PENNED BY MARQUETTE.​

 

[THISTLE.]

The marsh is uncharacteristically still. Even for a world wrapped in shadows, there is silence beyond understanding in these few simple moments. Thistle is watching leaves shiver in the wind as if that is all that remains of the universe– as if he can cling to this normalcy and weave his way backwards in time, until his father is alive again and the world made sense. They had gone to battle with pride on their tongues, and returned with death on their shoulders. He does not know how to survive what they had done. Every reaction he can think of is accompanied by a desire to run. It had been a challenge at first, a test of prowess. It had been nothing more than a scuffle meant to scare them away. But here they were.

Here they were.

Blood smears down the pale side of Thistle's face, but the claw marks that mark the top of it have scabbed and matted the nearby fur. Whenever he closes his eyes there's an uncomfortable tug. So the young tom barely even blinks. Even as his gaze turns away from the leaves and to the two that he can see, fiery eyes are wide and unblinking, trying to take in everything they can though he sees nothing. "Sage," he finally mumbles, sinking to the ground by Flicker with a wince that cracks the scabbing ever so slightly. "Can I ask– could you get me some damp moss? I should clean this before it gets worse."​

 

[Shimmerkit]

Flicker settled needy to groom the blood from her fur, and Sage flinched at the sight. She wondered whose it was. A pine cat's blood? Had they had a family? Parents? Siblings? A mate that loved them? Maybe kits? Were they dead or had they made it back home? Sage frowned, suddenly feeling very small. Would anyone have noticed if she'd been at the battle and hadn't returned? She wasn't sure she would like the answer.

And then Thistle was there, blood smeared down his face, and he was asking her for damp moss. The molly nodded quickly, hurrying away wordlessly and returning with some damp moss clamped between her teeth. She scampered up to Thistle and pressed the moss to his matted fur, trying as gingerly as possible to remove some of the dried blood from his face. Her white paws trembled slightly, and she hoped nobody had noticed.

 

[THISTLE.]

He thinks about that too. Who loved them, who cared about them, who missed them now that they were gone. He wishes– he can't say that he wishes it'd never happened, but what good came of it, really? His dad's dead. Everyone's hurting. Nobody came out of it happy. Thistle's looking at this kid and realizing that even though she hadn't been there, she felt it too. Even so far away from the battlefield, she knew what they had gone through, what pain remained. He sighs once she's gone, turning to wordlessly help groom away some of Flicker's bloodstained fur. Maybe if they're thorough enough, the memories will go away too. Stupid hopeful thinking; it'll never happen. They'll be stuck with this forever, and Thistle's going to be stuck tasting the blood that he cleans. He pauses only when Sage presses the moss to him. A discontented suck of breath– a squeeze of his brow as it begins to hurt.

"Thank you," he rasps again. "How did you do? When we were gone? Everything safe here?"​

 

[FLICKERFIRE]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Flicker watches through half-lidded eyes as Briar's son lumbers closer, flops beside her. His voice is a rasp, sounding heavy as stones beneath the river's surface. Still in quite a bit of pain. Bloodied. He asks Sage to help him, fetch him moss, and the she-kit scampers to assist. The tortoiseshell only watches them with feigned disinterest.

She nearly leaps from her pelt when Thistle's teeth and tongue touch her fur. Almost immediately, she's brought to a place she doesn't want to be, fangs fastened in her scruff, paws on her neck, but before she can hiss at him, she realizes he's only helping get the blood from her fur.

Her muscles are stiff, her posture erect, but she gives Thistle a halfhearted smile. "Maybe work on yer own coat. You, uh, missed a spot." She flicks her tail toward the clawed white half of his face, the wounds along his spotted body.

He asks Sage if things were alright in camp. Flicker settles her burning gaze on the younger cat, wondering. She must have worried. Must have pictured them losing, not returning at all, having her second home raided. "We should leave cats to guard next time," she says, a growl stuck like a bone in her throat.​

✦ PENNED BY MARQUETTE.​

 

[Shimmerkit]

At Thistle's wince, Sage snatched her paw back, letting the wet moss fall to the ground. "I'm sorry!" she cried. "I-I didn't mean to-" But then he was thanking her and asking how things went while they were gone, and her prickling pelt began to slowly lie flat again as she managed a small shrug. She'd cowered in the nursery for most of it, but was too embarrassed to actually let Thistle know that. She figured everything had gone okay. "I was afraid," she said finally in a small voice.