camp RIGHTEOUS SIDE OF HELL [☾] highstones return

[HARRIERSTRIPE]

At the rear of the patrol lead by two older warriors, Harrierstripe rushes back to camp with pride flaring in his chest. He was filled with kit-like excitement, eager to see the pleased look on his mothers face and a look of jealousy from Addervenom. He'd have to promise his brother that next time, they would do it together. That rogue had not been their first team kill and it won't be the last.

They break through the gorse entrance, paws bloody but none of them had so much of a scratch of their own. "Where is Sootstar and Sunstride?" He asks the rest of his patrol, eyes darting around the camp in search of their contrasting pelts.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• >> PATROL MEMBERS; @Gooseberry @hollowcreek @HARBINGERMOON @SNAKEHISS @Honeybadger. @HUMMINGBIRDHEART @RUMBLEPAW @SOOTSPOT @PRAIRIECRY from THIS THREAD
  >> @SOOTSTAR & @SUNSTRIDE
  >> One of the older loyalists can break the news!! I just wanted to get the thread up asap
  >> This is an open thread, anyone may post within it in any order
• 
  » Harrierkit . Harrierpaw . Harrierstripe
  » WindClan Warrior
  » He/him
  » A black and chocolate chimera with golden eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
• 
  » A foe who uses jeers and taunts to distract his opponents.
  » Excels in using terrain to his advantage.
  » Fights to overpower and see another day.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

 

[Gooseberry]

Stalwart as ever, Gooseberry does not appear giddy like Harrierstripe, although he does feel some satisfaction. It felt good to have the upper hand for once, and the RiverClan deputy made a mistake in not tucking his tail between his legs. No matter, he got what he deserved. It does feel a bit weird to not bring their win back with them, but it's not like he deserved the luxury of perishing somewhere comfy. Here's hoping that he is picked apart before any of RiverClan even realize that there is a problem.

When they arrive back to the familiar moors of WindClan's camp, he patiently waits as the younger warrior calls for his mother and the deputy. No matter who arrives first, he dips his head before speaking on what transpired. "Smokethroat tried to reach the Moonstone, but we cleanly intercepted him. He now lays bleeding out at Highstones." There's still some worry in him that he will be found, and his corpse will smell of who truly took his life, but he's sure they can handle whatever comes their way.​

​

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonpaw feels odd of the land claimed. The reasoning feels justified to her - with so many mouths ro feed, why not utilized land belonging to no one? She even allows herself selfish thoughts, that if she cannot speak with StarClan, than no one will. Yet as she mills about camp, finding her friends and sorting herself among the safer patrols, she thinks not of the consequences that would be attached for the other Clans. Sootstar extended WindClan's territory, and thus they must protect it with their lives just as the other Clans must respect the claim. She had not considered death to be an outcome of the new stakes.

Her brother exudes pride and Gooseberry allows no room for imagination. Smokethroat - damn him - had tried to converse with StarClan. To gain his lives, no doubt, since Cicadastar is no more. Most of her feels validated to know that the one eyed tom was most likely humiliated in his last heaving breaths, descended on by her mother's most dedicated warriors. But parts of her think of Berryheart, Magpiepaw - StarClan, even Starlingheart. Each new curious soul makes her worry for the continued consequence of this claim.

"Hopefully the crows make quick work of him," she states, not quite apathetically but lacking enough empathy to pass. She's not sure she wants to stick around, however, and listen to Sootstar revel in the victory.​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

Smokethroat laye bleeding out at Highstones. The truth had barbs, and barrelled right into Featherpaw's chest, knocking the wind out of her completely. They had been contested for their new claim of territory- and they had won it. RiverClan would be left without a leader, and without a deputy- he was dead. The permanence of that fate had always terrified Featherpaw to his core, but none of that fear showed on his face as he walked up to the group, plumy tail hovering over the dust in his wake.

Still a young apprentice, she knew better (than most her age, she would bet) than to butt in on the conversation uninvited. One worry, though, refused to stop buzzing along her spine like a current of carried lightning. "RiverClan will fight b... fight back..." There was an air of uncertainty about her tone, the words kept suspended and not-final, as if she didn't want what she'd just uttered to be true. But deep in her soul, Featherpaw knew it was reality. In RiverClan's eyes, WindClan had killed their deputy- and whoever their next leader would be was bound to be displeased- at the very least- about it.​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── He does not find triumph in the news as some of his clanmates do. No doubt Weaselclaw would, if he were here, but intercepting the would-be leader, preventing him from meeting with StarClan— Sootstar's disdain has taken new bounds and she will drag all of WindClan into spitting on their authority. Worse still, from the sounds of it, they left Smokethroat alive. Dying, yes, but alive, and Wolfsong's jaw clenches, wondering what prideful arrogance overtook these warriors that they did not see fit to ensure Smokethroat could not be saved. It is Sootstar's arrogance. She spites StarClan and they are only too happy to join her.

His gaze lingers on Cottonpaw, slightly narrowed, until his child speaks and he looks away from her. His paw brushes Featherpaw's head soothingly, once, twice, and again. His children will be expected to battle for these warriors' hubris. "They will if they learn of what happened to Smokethroat," he says, all while staring at the gathered WindClanners fresh from their excursion. "Did you watch the light leave his eye, the air his chest?" ​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 38 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[SNAKEHISS]

Nausea wracks the moor runner's stomach as the patrol treks back into WindClan's camp, eager to deliver their clanmates the great news. Smokethroat of RiverClan was no more; they were without a deputy and sure to escalate into chaos as they frantically decided upon who would replace him. The river-dwelling group's demise was birdsong to any WindClanner's ears, seeing as their feud could be traced back for seasons, but for some reason Snakehiss does not feel as enthusiastic as his fellow loyalists. What would StarClan think of this? Would WindClan pay the price for their bloodshed?

Periodically, he glances upward toward the skies, searching for any signs of StarClan's presence. Lightning, storm clouds, gusting winds... anything.

Featherpaw's suggestion of RiverClan's wrath, makes the black-furred tom flick his ears back. Could they win in a fight against RiverClan? Those cats have always been nothing more than a bunch of fish-eaters, but then again, they had killed their leader-to-be... The retaliation had the potential to be massive.

When the medicine cat next asks if Smokethroat had taken his last breath in their presence... Snakehiss' inky jaw parts for a moment, pupils widening in realization. The situation had been so hectic, passing by in what the warrior could only describe as a blur, that he could not even confirm the deputy's death.

Shining green eyes waver in a building anxiety as he looks to the other members of the patrol, wondering if either of them had a better answer for Wolfsong.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙬𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙮

• 

• 

  ✰ SNAKEHISS
  —— he/him; moor runner of windclan
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— long-limbed black tom with green eyes, a small white chest patch, and a notable bite mark on his right foreleg
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[HARBINGERMOON]

☾ Stains of crimson still clung to Harbingermoon's chest and cheek, the lingering marks of a skirmish with a RiverClan toad. The metallic scent wafted unpleasantly, evoking both disgust and an electrifying thrill. Hollowcreek ambled at his side, their pelts brushing idly before they parted ways, the tuxedo tom bounding ahead to follow Harrierstripe.

Entering the camp, Harbingermoon's grin blossomed at the anticipated reception. Cottonpaw's words carried a lightness akin to a summer breeze, but Featherpaw's uncertainty swiftly soured the atmosphere. His teeth gritted as Wolfsong approached, and the Tunneler's smile vanished as realization dawned.

Quickly, he responded to the Medicine Cat with a facade of calm and collected composure. "I'll be honest with you, Wolfsong. I don't know." There was a deliberate vagueness to his words, masking the certainty that Smokethroat may or may not have survived. "I dealt the first blow but certainly didn't dish out the last." The response was delivered with a cool nonchalance, revealing little of his inner thoughts.

Harbingermoon surveyed the gathered cats, seeking any nods or meows of confirmation. The truth was they had swarmed the Deputy like flies on a carcass, biting, scratching, and maiming until he fell silent. Yet, the tuxedo had not bothered to check for a pulse, considering the brutal assault they had unleashed. He figured if the rat managed to survive he'd get a kick out of watching him struggle in a crowd of paws once more.

The prospect of an ensuing battle stirred an even bigger tension in his gut.Perhaps I'll get to witness every life slipping away at once. The morbid curiosity about leaders and their enigmatic StarClan friends danced at the edges of his thoughts, and a smile threatened to surface, only to be quelled. Now wasn't the time to provoke anyone. ☽​

 

[SUNNVAR]

✦ . ˚ . There is tension in face of their joy. The excitement of those who return– the sheer boldness of their claims, their– once, he thinks that he may have understood. In times past, many moons ago, Sunstride had known the excitement of coming to battle. An even match, where lives might be lost and celebrated in their loss, had once been something he was eager for. But here in this territory, he knows only the pain of retribution. StarClan does not think the way his gods did. Whatever Sunstride may think of Smokethroat's loss, he does not feel pride. It is heavy in his gut. Featherpaw speaks true. There will come nothing good of this. With @SCORCHPAW shortly behind him, he comes to stand near his most serious kit. There is a brief, absurd sensation of a united front against those that return.

"His death will bring troubles for us as these seasons turn. We may have laid claim to Highstones, but it will stretch our patrols far thinner as this comes to its head." Already he is consumed with how he may change their routes. Trouble brews and bites at him. They do not have the warriors for both this territory and RiverClan. Had it been intended that way? "Who among you is responsible, then? For this final blow to Smokethroat."

𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘚𝘖𝘕; 𝘚𝘜𝘕-𝘉𝘓𝘖𝘖𝘋 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌  ╱╱ 9.16.2023 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. —
• ✦ . ˚ . FORMERLY SUNNVAR. HE - HIM - HIS OR THEY - THEM. DEPUTY OF WINDCLAN. 4 YEARS OLD. PENNED BY REVELATIONS. —————————
  
  
  —— a tall auburn tabby with thick fur and bright glacial eyes. sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond it, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of them. he radiates confidence and self-assured authority.
  
  

  ✦ NPC x NPC. DECEASED MOTHER, ESTRANGED FATHER. NO LITTERMATES. MATE TO WOLFSONG. FATHER TO BEARKIT, SINGEDKIT, RIVEKIT, SUNLITKIT, AND FEATHERKIT ——

• "speech"

​

 

[hollowcreek]

( ✧ ) Hollowcreek observed those present from Highstones as they shared the news of their trophy kill to the Clan. A crisp breeze blew through a wispy mane as Harbringermoon parted from his side, a pull in his chest tugging him to follow him and reclaim the warmth lost from his presence.

The line of temptation is sharply cut as Featherpaw and his fathers come to question their actions. "RiverClan will have to recover before they can even start to plan retaliation. I doubt they'll even risk that with their river about to freeze over." Hollowcreek is quick to reassure, voice level as their deputy came to question who was responsible for ensuring the river rats death.

"After half this patrol shredded him apart, Harrierstripe valiantly delivered him to his helpless stars." He looked to Sootstars son with a nod. "He wasn't moving when we left him for the buzzards. We had no reason to believe he could have survived a fight against all of us."
​

( I SEE YOUR COLLARBONE ; AND WANNA LOSE CONTROL )

 

[HARRIERSTRIPE]

The members of the patrol begin to spill the events of what occured, starting with Gooseberry and ending with Hollowcreek. Observantly he watches the expressions shift across the listening cats face, including Cottonpaw. The blue medicine cat apprentice appears to share his same mindset, let the crows have him. His eyes wash over her and onto the next cats, Wolfsong and Sunstride.

His fur fluffs out in pride when Hollowcreek honors him by revealing he was the one who dealt the last blow. He grins through his eyes, "…Yes, you should've seen the blood. He was soaked in it." Harrierstripe extends a bloody paw in their direction as proof, dry crimson embedded in his fur. "He's dead without a doubt… I can show you."" He offers in a show of his confidence.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Harrierkit . Harrierpaw . Harrierstripe
  » WindClan Warrior
  » He/him
  » A black and chocolate chimera with golden eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
• 
  » A foe who uses jeers and taunts to distract his opponents.
  » Excels in using terrain to his advantage.
  » Fights to overpower and see another day.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

 

[Flaxshade]

Observation is the first step of any experiment​

---

The bustling return of the loyalist patrol sparking their news of Smokethroat's defeat brought many to the scene, including Flaxshade who bounded over tufted ears perked as he listened to the words passing over. "My my, how Riverclan's mighty have fallen, impressive impressive, I wish I had been there to see" the tunneler said with a sing-song toned. Oh how Harrierstripe even asked if they wish to see proof that Riverclan's dear deputy was truly gone which made the tom eagerly nod his head while a toothh grin splayed onto his maw.

"What spoils did you bring back from your victory?" he asked curiously, his tail swishing with curiosity. What could it be? Did they even bring back anything? Or were they expected to make another long treck back to the high stones to see the body of Smokethroat, perhaps already being picked off by some crows. What a befitting end for the tom for sure for sure, but still Flaxshade was partially disappointed in the fact he did not go.

"The chaos that this would bring to Riverclan, shame we will not witness the panic on their faces when they find out they are leaderless" he let a soft chuckle out at his own sing-song word, not trying to worry over a possible fight. They wouldn't dare attempt anything after losing something such as a deputy, right? Why should they fear a retaliation when they should be celebrating the death of Smokethroat instead?​

"speak""Thoughts"​

 

[quailbreeze]

whatever emotion she is feeling, it's not one that sits well within the molly's chest. having been drawn in by the commotion, quailbreeze found herself wishing she had stayed out of this discussion. while not a clanmate of their own, the apparent murder of the riverclan deputy was not a good sign for windclan. while she had not been part of the group traveling and was unaware of what the situation was, she couldn't understand why they seemingly had willingly killed him. "why did you feel the need to attack someone innocently traveling to highstones?! starclan will not take this lightly." her horrified expression surely matched the distressed tone in her voice, desperately glancing between the patrol members in an attempt to understand what they had done.

​

OOC NOTES . ◭ . CHARACTER INFO

• ooc : —​
• — ic opinions
  — open to minor/healing powerplay
  — quailbreeze / windclan moor runner / feminine pronouns / biography

 

[◇ Honeybadger.]

♢​♢ THIS IS HOW LEGENDS ARE MADE ♢♢​

---

honeybadger & 11 moons & trans. male & he/him & windclan moor runner ​

---

Honeybadger doesn't say much at first - he'd hardly gotten to participate, much to his chagrin. How was he too become a strong warrior, a hero, if he was always late to act? Instead, he simply watches with wide silver eyes as the others brag and argue, a grin upon his maw as he nods along. Certainly, this is an achievement to be proud of, right?

Quailbreeze seems visibly upset though - her sharp words burning his ears. "They're dead anyways - what are a bunch of ghosts gonna' do? Besides, it's our territory now - why should we let the other clans walk all over us like that?" he questions, though there is more genuine confusion than anger. Certainly, the she-cat is just being naive - still believing in elder tales.

— like iron from the fire gettin' stronger ☀︎

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: —
  tw/cw: —
  
• [bimg]url here[/bimg]
  — a strange looking feline with nearly every shade of red upon his coat, and a badger-like mask of white upon his face. honeybadger is usually quite friendly and outgoing, an upbeat sort of personality; but when faced with those outside of windclan his demeanor is brutal and scathing.
  
  — physically medium && mentally medium
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay not allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#fed053]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[RATTLEHEART]

Mercifully, Rattleheart had not heard about the clan's taking of Highstones, blissfully unaware of the crimes against Starclan that Sootstar and her most loyal warriors were committing. Unfortunately said ignorance was short-lived, the tunneler's head popping up and his body recoiling at the strong scent of blood that suddenly flooded camp. It was mixed with the sharp smell of Riverclan, and his anxiety drove him forward the moment he heard Harrierstripe calling for Sootstar and Sunstride. His ears pinned flat down against his skull when Gooseberry made his declaration, Rattleheart making no effort to hide the disgust that stretched clear as day across his face. "You did what?" It was bad enough that they had tried to make a claim to Highstones, and even worse that they had chosen to attack a deputy on the way to the Moonstone.

But worst of all, they hadn't even been competent enough to make sure he was truly dead?

At least some among them were reasonable, with both Wolfsong and Sunstride voicing their worries, as well as Quailbreeze expressing her horror at their actions. The monochrome feline wasn't quite as outspoken as her about his feelings, but it was clear enough from his expression and words that he felt the entire group was foolish. Harrierstripe included, in spite of the pride that was written all over his expression. Though, his voice was only slightly lowered as he leaned close to the nearest rational cat he knew – likely one of his siblings, really. "What a bunch of mouse-brained idiots... they're going to get us all killed because they can't see beyond their own noses." If Smokethroat had survived, then there was no way Riverclan would take the attempted murder of their deputy lightly. They'd all be lucky if they got out of this without an entire war on their paws, an even further death sentence with leafbare right on their border.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ At this rate, Foxglare could not see a future for Windclan that didn't involve digging dozens of graves for clanmates that would pay for the rashness of a select few. Was the provocation of Shadowclan by snatching up their kits not enough? Killing Riverclan's deputy and blocking all the clans from passage to Highstones was a certain recipe for war. Rage bubbled up inside him, would he really let these fools march him and everyone else to their deaths?

"Hope the extra territory's gonna be enough to feed the injured..." He mutters to no one in particular, lashing his tail but wanting to bite his tongue for letting his frustrations get the best of him long enough to utter what he was thinking.

ALL IN ALL ⁀➷☾⁺₊ IS ALL WE ARE

• OOC:
• 
• 
  — sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 12mo moor-runner of windclan
  — a large, scarred, longhaired light ginger tabby with high white and grey eyes
  — smells like wet oak wood and dewy sedge
  — sounds like leon kennedy, with a vague texan drawl.
  — the straight-faced and taciturn adopted son of houndthistle, lived as a twolegplace loner until 7 moons old, now a moor-runner of windclan. stalwart and resilient, he is not easily shaken and lives by a very strict personal code of honor.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — hs by mercurial, fullbody by antiigone
  — penned by eezy

​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

The Tunneler was a little cat, his gnarled claws better for digging dirt than shifting bodies. His request had been a simple one, ignored by his clanmates in a moment of blood fury that he had not gotten involved with. He moved behind the others as their shadow, pelt clean, smile near-angelic until he stepped out into the light. It was under the sun's glare that he saw shame and admonishment, suddenly, refusing his own call seemed more of an act of self-preservation. He straightened his posture and allowed his expression to grow more passive, at least until Sootstar showed up to approve or admonish the patrol's actions. The medicine cat spoke first and malice flickered in his gaze, with a blink, it was gone and snakelike pupils settled on the traitor. He hated that he had a point. "Should he live, then let him live, his corpse would be a feast for crows. His words would be a warning, WindClan will tolerate these trespassers no longer." It felt too easy to say, the lie that he was not bothered by the rejection of his idea to bring the body back. WindClan had a plethora of rabbit's feet waiting upon its moors, another revealed itself when he found reason to not make an enemy of his allies - when his faithless clanmate had chosen to cast their ire towards them.

Had he been alone, he'd have sighed in relief, instead, he simply shuffled in spot and then took a step forward, movement fluid. "WindClan rejects the wishes of SkyClan ancestors, you complain. WindClan does what StarClan intends and defends its territory, you also complain. One might think you just like complaining." Even if Quailbreeze had not 'complained' about everything personally, he recognised the signs of a disloyal cat when he saw one. Dandelionwish, Sunstride, Badgermoon, Scorchstreak, Wolfsong, Featherpaw, Galeforce, Curlewnose, Quailmoon: all of them were the same, all of them went against his mother's demands whether they realised it or not. "Might I remind you that Highstones is our territory, the other clans travel as a privilege, not a right. If they wish to speak to the dead, they may go around our territory. Smokethroat trespassed and refused to leave, StarClan should be furious with him for betraying the first rule of their precious code." But they wouldn't be, would they? StarClan was a cursed, bias thing - WindClan would be better off destroying the moonstone entirely.



​

 

[downyfur]

Sootspot had assigned them apprentice chores late that afternoon, replacing the hay in the elder's den, bringing water to the queens, the sort of stuff that positively dragged out the daylight. Their blue-blooded mentor had put himself on a patrol in training's stead, all the way out to Highstones. Maybe he thought their stubby legs wouldn't be able to handle the trek if it weren't through the tunnels.

Early nightfall brings them some measure of relief with a break from their mindless duties, but the rest does not relieve them entirely. Sootspot isn't back, and, now that they glance around themself, neither is a good portion of their clan. They're just about to ask someone when a gruff voice at the gorse tunnel calls for their leadership.

Dusk-lined ears prick at that, and hope draws them into the crowd gathering around the entrance—and the bloodstained patrol. Shock lances through them, wringing their head of whatever boredom had been clogging it up before. No, they quietly realize, wide eyes absorbing each one, their stance, their expressions. None of them are hurt. They wait for a wave of gratitude for their clanmates' safety to wash over them, but it doesn't come. All they can think of is what, or who, had been hurt in their stead.

Downypaw keeps quiet as the warriors discuss, save for a startled glance at Featherpaw's remark, but evening sky eyes stretch incomprehensibly wider with each surprise. They killed RiverClan's deputy—no, they almost killed him—well, whatever they did, Sunstride and the others make it abundantly clear there will be retaliation. Anxiety pulses through their veins with a vengeance.

Their mentor's reappearance washes some of it away. It's not enough to abate it entirely, but enough for them to stand a little taller in the crowd in the hopes he'd…at least look at them, or something. Sootspot doesn't look at them all that often. But Downypaw looks at Sootspot a lot. His smile is pearly easy, his pelt untarnished. Honey drips from his teeth, and Downypaw just about drowns themself in his words.

Highstones is our territory. They curl their puffy tail around their ankle, welcoming smile drooping at the corners. I thought Highstones belonged to everyone. I thought StarClan lived there. A small shake of the head tries to dislodge the thought. I guess StarClan wouldn't be bothered if we just hunt…

But then the problem lay so plainly for them to see. It wasn't StarClan they should fear: it was everyone else. They glance to Sunstride, to Sootstar, to Sootspot. Despite never having even touched the dusky tunneler before, they find themself with the urge to huddle between his pristine legs, white as Heavy Snow's but far smaller. Would such unbloodied claws be able to prepare them for the onslaught to come?​