camp THEN IT TAKETH AWAY ↷ [ attacked ]

[smogstar]

// direct continuation of this thread!
// [ cw : blood, injuries ]


In bygone days, Smogmaw cast doubt upon the security of his clan's borders. Mere scent lines dividing them from the rest of the territories seemed paltry and easily breached. Midnight prowls along the length of the border allowed him to find weak spots, and he had consistently deduced that desperate, if not malignant invaders could effortlessly slip in and out without detection. Such is what happened to Pitchstar, after all.

Until today, he has never felt so safe to be within the bounds of the swamp.

His steps are fraught with a treacherous limp. The digits of his hind paw drag against the loam and sparse grasses the marsh has to offer, whilst the roots of his steely furs along that limb are saturated with the sticky residue of his wounds. Beneath the sun's rays, the blood is nigh on impossible to overlook. Clenched teeth turn every breath cycle into a hiss of pain, and his ears remain pinned to his skull as he verges on camp. Smogmaw has been in scraps before, but he hasn't found himself this battered since the Great Battle. In total defiance of the warnings he'd given her, Sootstar intended to kill him, to gut him on the spot so he couldn't return home.

The deputy's gait decelerates further upon crossing camp's threshold. He stops there, in the entrance, and positions his rear onto the soil. "You," he tells the first cat within earshot. His tone is vacant, devoid of the smouldering ire he held in the moment. "Get Chilledstar, and Starlingheart. I've been attacked by WindClan."


// his wounds: deep scratches done by dirty claws along his hind flank, bite marks & cuts on the scruff. ​

 

[FERNDANCE]

Blood was on the air, its tangy stench a reminder of prey that the ailing group seemed cursed to never catch, or so she'd thought. It was with frantic energy the ticked tabby approached, pupils dilated with the promise of seeing a meal fit for a queen - then she saw Smogmaw. With grey fur stained an ugly merlot, her eyes nearly popped out of her skull, her fur bristling and refusing to budge as she stared down their Deputy. She didn't need to ask what on StarClan's name happened, she was not the cat Smogmaw had been addressing but she heard the story all the same: he had been attacked by WindClan. The tabby's blood ran cold, her ears angling back as they threatened to touch the back of her skull. She felt the same rum-tum-tum of a heart that seemingly didn't know what it wanted and she looked down disapprovingly towards it. It was a rare feeling, one she hated. Ferndance knew what to do and desire, so why? Why did it feel so difficult to see a clanmate in this state? For the first time, the Lead Warrior considered that that strange sensation may have been anxiety. She was scared for her Deputy, as she had been for her family days prior.

"Like Carrionplace vermin..." She breathed, remembering her prior conversation with the Deputy near their shared borders. It had been an uneasy truce they'd shared, enemies in all but action. Now, that seal had been broken, the rats revealing their true nature to get what they wanted - a suffering ShadowClan. Well, she'd show them suffering. "You can lean on me if you need to." It was not a request. Fury tempered Ferndance's gentle tone, morphing it into something more forceful than she'd ever considered possible from herself. Slithering to Smogmaw's side, she was able to get a better few of his wounds from such an angle, though it was still hard to see past the river of red across his spine. It did not bother her to be stained by such a vicious-looking thing, she didn't doubt it'd happen soon regardless of how careful she was. ShadowClan had not fully recovered from Leafbare, but Chilledstar could not let them get away with this. Eyes masking a quiet anger, she scanned the camp for their leader, her breaths audible as she worked to restrain herself.

A smile cracked upon the tabby's maw. "I am going to wear their pelts." She promised. With no authority to launch a counterattack and no knowledge to tend to his injuries, revenge was all Ferndance could truly offer.

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

† She is who his eyes find first. Old amber across the horizon. Dry. Despondent. Perhaps it was Sharppaw who had found those eyes first.

The apprentice stiffens on instinct, lips pulled tight at the sight of him. And it's stupid to act such a way, when he practically seems to sway on his own four legs before rooting himself in the sullen dirt. He is hardly someone to respect, hardly something other than a filthy face and a title. Why does it bother her so to see blood dry on his hind? Angry at what? Sharppaw hardly knows. She hopes her eyes don't show the way her mind is spinning.

A step away– the trance broken. Though his lips are still dry she would croak a summoning, for ShadowClan's sake, not his. "Chilled–" His paws carry him to a pelt as black as his own; a white-scarred face. Ferndance is a retreating form within his vision. Starlingheart could be left for someone else, couldn't she? The roots of the den abound. Sharppaw looks at them as if they hold all the world's secrets. Her head falls slightly away. It leaves her ears pricked toward them– I'm listening. I'm listening. Silver dew on whiskers, they nearly seem to quiver. (More than seeming, isn't it?) "Smogmaw is... hurt... WindClan attacked..." They had it coming, hadn't they? The day they ended things–

[ Went to get @CHILLEDSTAR., & ninja'd so hopefully everythings ok!! ]​

 

[Dewfrost]

The smell of blood on the air draws Dewfrost over. She is not unaccustomed to the scent. Dewfrost has been in enough battles to know the taste and smell of blood. Still, when it appears unexpectedly, she can't help but feel a little unsettled. The silver tabby pads over after Dogfur and Sharppaw, only hearing little snippets of conversation before Sharppaw slips away likely to find their inky leader. "Attacked." Dewfrost echoes in a dull tone. She shakes her head disapprovingly. "How very brazen of WindClan," She adds with a sneer. She knew that Chilledstar had broken the alliance with WindClan, but it was not so long ago that the two clans had been allies...even if that word was quite a stretch for the tense relationship between the two clans. "I will fetch Starlingheart for you," Dewfrost announces, before turning and heading towards the medicine den to retrieve their young medicine cat.

/ tagging @STARLINGHEART . !​

 

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ "Attscked by.....attacked by Windclan? Which one dared to do it? Who decided to be a skunk sniffer, hm?" He wants to know. He wants to know which one had enough carrion for brains as to attack a Shadowclanner and start a path down to destruction. Windclan. He used to think them something but as time dragged on they were less something and more like a miasma that is poisoning. His muzzle curls as he steps forward and he wishes to march on them now. Afterall that is all they deserve. His tail lashes back and forth as he comes to stand near the group, a smirk playing on his muzzle. He is curious to see what Chilledstar will do. Honestly he thinks to give no parlay. They don't deserve it in his eyes. But only time will tell. For now Smogmaw needs help and someone has already gone to seek his sister so the best he can do is wait for his leader. ​

 

[BLOODHOUND.]

WHO IS THE LAMB AND WHO IS THE KNIFE? ☽⁺₊⋆
The hybrid had curled up on a branch hung over the camp, basking in the sun's gentle rays. Purring gently, just relaxing. They'd woken early that day, even after a night of creeping through the undergrowth, stalking creatures that lingered in the dark. Practicing their stealth, as their larger stature and pale fur were much harder to hide.

The smell of blood hits them long before anything else, tangy and metallic in the air. It almost smells of prey, almost. It was similar enough that they open their eyes and languidly scan the cats within the camp below, wondering who had brought such a feast. Wanting to share a few words of praise.

Bloodhound realizes quickly that they should have trusted their first instinct. Red soaked over a grey form, catlike. They have to squint over the sun's rays. ShadowClan's deputy, limping. Red, so red. Blood clotting in his dark fur, crimson and tacky.

Their fur stands on end, claws unsheathing, quiet horror on their face. Had WindClan not taken enough? How much blood needed to be shed? The beast stands, as the deputy requested assistance, as their clanmates gather. Tearing away from the branch, claws ripping into the soil as they land. They snatch a frog from the freshkill pile as they hurry.

Eyes wide, they approach, as Sharppaw and Dewfrost run for help. Ferndance is at Smog's side, helping prop him up, and they can feel the fury radiating off of the lead warrior. They lay the prey at his feet, something for him to eat, in case he felt fit to pass out. Stepping back, they don't want to crowd the poor bastard. Their tail lashes back and forth, the bengal getting a much better look at the state he's in. Blood doesn't frighten them, and neither does death. But to have another clanmate wounded, for it to so clearly look like a murder attempt--- Puncture wounds, teeth at the back of his neck. Cowardly.

Quietly seething, they remain close. Eyes looking over Smogmaw's head, into the marshes beyond the camp. Wondering if he'd been followed. Chittertongue speaks up. Their gaze flicks back to the deputy, sharing his same concern. Who?

An eye for an eye, a claw for a throat.

[☾]​

​

 

[Ravenwatcher.]

So I walk alone down the darkest roads​

---

Already did a crowd begin the surround their injured deputy as the words of Windclan having attacked their deputy, dark ocean-eyes scorn with annoyance and disappointment, now was Windclan planning their attack? Was injuring their deputy a warning to them all to prepare. Each member all reacting in their own way some quiet while others loud and her tail lashed in a slight annoyance as to what was happening as she cursed underneath her breath. She knew, sure that there was no mistake in this, and with the paranoid thought that sang in the back of her head did the warrior shook her head. "Perhaps we should give them a warning of our own" Her words were cold and wispy, frigid even for the normally monotoned warrior.

They dare attack their deputy and think to get away with it? She thought not, yet they must be on the lookout because this could very much well be the beginning of an attack from the insane cretins that call themselves warriors and are blessed by Starclan. Those cowards would soon learn that Shadowclan were not to be messed with, as despite them, they weren't choking on their own prideful egos, and the ones who guide them did not turn their backs on them. The blood scent stung her nose as a look of disgust displayed on the normally cold face.

Windclan will soon learn for sure, that Shadowclan was not one to be messed with, and she'll hope that Chilledstar would do the right thing and not allow
what happened today to be turned a blind eye. They shall pay for what they did to their deputy, and Ravenwatcher could not wait to witness the justice served to them as her claws sunk into the soft ground below her. When will they have a day of peace? She prayed soon enough for that to come and those who scorn them to nip them in their tail. ​

"speak""Thoughts"​

 

[Starlingheart]

It’s another day for the black and white she cat. She takes inventory, assessing what she has, what she needs. She does her chores just like any other cat, though hers are different from the normal warriors. She is about to leave her den on a mission to gather herbs when she is stopped by a clanmate, by Dewfrost. Her eyes flick behind the she-cat to the small group of cats forming around their deputy and she frowns. It would be harder to do her work with a crowd… she imagines all their judgemental faces, their eyes locked on to her as she works and she flinches involuntarily before nodding. If she didn’t help she would be no better than the cat who came before her, the one she vowed to never be like.

She grabs the emergency kit that sits by the mouth of her den then puts it down again, her brain a buzz of thoughts and emotions. Moss. She needed wet moss to clean the wounds. She disappears for a moment to retrieve it "Ca-carry this?" she asks Dewfrost, pushing her emergency kit forwards with one paw.

She makes her way to Smogmaw then, deftly moving through the crowd until she is by the deputies side. "I-I’d hate to-to see what the o-o-other guy looks like" she says quietly, certain that he had given whoever had attacked him a run for their money. Her other clanmates ask questions like who it was, what provoked this attack, and Starlingheart’s ears flick. She too wants to know.

For now, she gets to work, cleaning the wounds with the wet moss first. They needed to be clean before she applied the herbs and the cobwebs. Marigold to stop the infection and the bleeding. Goldenrod to help the wounds heal faster and cobwebs to keep them in place. There are other herbs to treat infection, she knows, but this in her mind was the tried and true method.

​

 

[Halfshade]

The torbie bumps and pushes her way through the gathered clanmates without so much as an 'excuse me' on her tongue, mismatched eyes honing in on the source of the sudden copper scent swilling in the camp and she gives a stuttering cry of alarm at the blue tabby's disheveled state. WindClan. Attacked.
It's all she hears, all she needs to know to truly get worked up and Halfshade gives a furious lash of her tail as presses up against Smogmaw's side that Starlingheart does not currently occupy to push her nose into the side of his face briefly before backing off to allow their medicine cat to work without being crowded although the impulse to reflexively hiss at the cats in too close proximity bubbled in her throat.
"Those warmongering dogs!" The molly cursed, usually serene and soft visage twisting into an unbecoming snarl, wrinkled nose and white teeth. Halfshade could fight, not that most knew as much since she kept her paws clean and her nose out of business that wasn't hers, but she never had much interest in it until it became quite personal. The memories of splitting open a white throat were still vivid in her mind, building to the surface and leaving her seeing red
Her eyes narrow as she looks for Chilledstar wherever they might be in the camp; when they had come to declare WindClan their enemy she had not understood why. Why the sudden shift downward when all that they needed was to be left alone? The Moorland cats were mad, yes, but generally most of their ire had to be spiked to provoke such a thing. Smogmaw wasn't stupid enough to do anything to cause them to attack so it had to be unprovoked as far as she cared. Which meant it was Chilledstar's faut for turning WindClan's hatred onto them, they could have just gone their seperate ways but whatever meeting the black and white cat had with Sootstar must have caused this. "We ARE retaliating, right?" It was a question and yet not a question. ShadowClan had spent the last several moons starving to death quietly in the snow, she didn't think they had the force to sing for war but SOMETHING had to be done right? This could not just be disregarded.
​

 

[Sundewtail]

Sundewtail couldn't believe what she had just heard!! Who would attack Smogmaw!! He does nothing wrong!! And it was Windclan, no less! She knew those moorlanders couldn't be trusted.... Why had they allied with them in the first place? So much had happened, she couldn't remember the reason. It didn't matter now, though. War was on the horizon and she wanted to cause grievous bodily harm.

"This one wants blood."

She wondered what had even happened. Did Smogmaw say something to anger Windclan? It wasn't hard, they were all short tempered, in her experience. Smogmaw probably said Sootstar was ugly or something, and the patrol got mad and attacked him. She wouldn't know the truth until Smogmaw spoke up again, and wouldn't know what to do until Chilledstar gave their piece.
​

 

[ROOSTERSTRUT]

❪ TAGS ❫ — Roosterstrut is just about as surprised as anyone else is when he sees the deputy dragging his behind into camp all bruised and bloodied. He makes note of the scores deep down Smogmaw’s side; he had definitely been attacked, possibly by someone with the intent to maim.

He doesn’t get too close for obvious reasons, letting the other ShadowClanners glance him over and fret over his battered state. Rooster listens with a frown as the others talk of retaliation, blood for blood. However, was no one going to ask what occurred? The two clans were now at odds, but surely someone must have been provoked.

"What happened?" Roosterstrut asks the question that nobody had inquired on previously, but it was perhaps the most important one yet. Why would a WindClanner attack Smogmaw? Had it been random?

Perhaps his past experiences with the deputy had jaded his point of view, but Roosterstrut is curious whether the blame could truly be put on WindClan or if there was something deeper at play here.​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

---

this wasn't supposed to be how this day went. this wasn't supposed to be how any day went, and yet time and time again the stars have decided to test them, and they can't seem to catch even a small semblance of a break. their head laid upon their paws, tail flicking back and forth idly as they stared at the wall of the den. there are sounds of commotion and before chilledstar has a chance to even try to investigate, sharppaw is in their den, speaking of windclan and smogmaw. they blink at him, eyes revealing nothing as they stood to their paws. they gently bump her shoulder in thanks before making their way to the gathering of cats.

they watch and their stomach feels tight with a mix of emotions. they'd gotten so good at stuffing everything down, but for some reason... it was boiling over. this was the last straw. the cherry on top. the final card upon the stack. they couldn't hold back their anger any longer. hit, after hit, after another damned hit. they were bursting at the seams, and there would be nothing that could hold them together.

"be quiet."

too many cats are speaking all at once. everyone except for the one damned cat they needed to hear from. their blue gaze darts between everyone, and they feel their breathing picking up, heartbeat thumping loudly against their ribcage. their claws gripped into the ground, and their ears pushed against their skull as their lip drew back in a vicious and loud snarl.

"shut the fuck up! all of you!"

they shouted, the fur along their spine rising. their gaze is now filled with a fiery flame of anger that cannot be dimmed any longer. they didn't want it to be. they were sick of these damned cats walking over them, and acting as if they didn't know how to run this clan. they were tired of fucking everything.

"smogmaw. starlingheart. my den. now. everyone else, go find something else to fucking do. we will talk about this later. windclan will get what is coming to them. and if i hear one fucking word out of place, believe me... you will regret having opened your mouth in the first place."

with a lash of their tail, they turn and return to their den, waiting impatiently for their deputy and medicine cat, pacing back and forth as their teeth gritted. fuck all of this shit. windclan would regret the day they decided to ever interact with shadowclan.
​

 

[smogstar]

What little adrenaline remained from the attack was ebbing with every second. His hindquarters become increasingly sore, their seething pain catching ablaze, to a point where maintaining an upright posture proves to be excruciating. The tom welcomes Ferndance's assistance without complaint or hesitation for that reason. His weight shifts onto her midsection as she supports him, reciprocating her statements with jagged gasps of gratitude. The ticked tabby displays a particular selflessness and willingness to help in the face of his injuries, despite neither he or she sharing a thick bond. "Thank you," is about all he can muster in the moment, squinted eyes training on his apprentice and Dewfrost as they run off.

Internal turmoil accompanies the acute discomfort. A whirlwind of ideas, explanations, whys and wherefores storms within his psyche, and it thrusts the deputy into a detached stupor. Though he identifies the clanmates who draw near and can hail them with a weak nod, Smogmaw's stream of consciousness is effectively brought to a standstill—the stakes of what has happened, and their implications, are beyond his capacity to fathom. Of all the contingent scenarios he'd thought up in his days, Sootstar actually attacking him existed not among them. His vacant gaze lingers on Chittertongue's pallid form, and he does not come to until the medicine cat approaches with herbs and moss.

From there, he shifts his weight away from the lead warrior, allowing the medicine cat and his mate to take hold of his injured form. Halfshade's presence is especially appreciated. Her warmth nullifies the ache he so felt, and tears his attention away from Starlingheart's nursing. Knowing that he'll spend the ensuing days in a cave, far removed from the nest they share, is almost as painful as the claw marks.

Smogmaw's head pivots to face Roosterstrut at the ginger tom's query, but immediately his focus is seized by Chilledstar's vulgar demands. Their voice is like a claw itself, cutting through the camaraderie near the camp's entrance. The deputy's eyes are overtaken by bafflement. He will not pretend to know his leader's motivations, but it appears they'd taken a greater offense to the outrage than the attack itself. Their orders only add to the perplexity within his mind, and as the midnight-furred feline makes off for their den, Smogmaw is left with only a vacant stare.

"At the risk of misbehaving, I'll have to take a moment before walking again," he contends. The conclusion of his words are marked by a grunt, teeth-clenched and sullen-looked. He isn't pleased, he isn't sure anyone is—but Chilledstar's impositions leave him less thrilled than he should be. "WindClan's leader has grown paranoid," Smogmaw presses on, "I couldn't make anything of half her delusions when she spoke at the border. But from what I'd gathered, she thinks we will fight alongside her other enemies in a coming war. She attacked me herself, crossing onto our land to do so. I'd only escaped after crushing her under my weight." His tail flicks against his mate's flank, which proved to be a mistake, as the movement reawakens the pain in his ass.

His eyes trail to Chilledstar's den. "Sootstar thinks us to be fragile, worth kicking around on our own territory. We will prove her wrong." A gesture to the medicine cat follows thereafter. "C'mon, let's speak to our leader. Everyone else, find something to fucking do."​

 

[Halfshade]

She tried not to be a bother, hovering to the side just in reach so Starlingheart was not overwhelmed by he presence but it was hard not to take matters into her own hands despite not being a healer.
And suddenly there is Chilledstar, angry and fuming like the rest of them and for a moment she is relieved at the anger, thinking they are there to join the fire already burning, to throw in their rage at this injustice with the rest of the clan but immediately she is infuriated as they scream and throw a tantrum like a child; their anger clearly directed at their clan and not the blatant aggression WindClan has shown to them. Like their name they douse the flames of outraged unity and leave nothing but an awkward pause of silence that is almost chilling.
Childish, pathetic, she thinks of their talk when the dark feline had just become leader and already she is regretting bothering speaking up. It has been a waste of her time. It was clear now if it wasn't before, that Chilledstar was more insane and hostile than Pitchstar ever could be, for at least the rosette bastard had cared, putting ShadowClan first as always. He would have arrived screaming for WindClan blood, not his classmates showing their concern and fury.
She is silent, not because of the petulantly screamed order but out of shock that they had done so. As the dark feline leaves and her mate and Starlingheart follows she turns with a sharp huff to the others still present. Smogmaw's parting words were noted, ears flat and uncertain. WindClan's leader was a paranoid nutcase, but frankly...so was theirs. Who was worse? Would they ever get a leader who didn't shriek like a banshee constantly?
"Is anyone ELSE sick of our leaders screaming and cursing at us like deranged lunatics? Threatening us for breathing out of line? Or is it just me?"
She'd had it up to here with this insane blithering spiel of paranoia and emotional outburts from the cats in charge of ShadowClan, she longed for the days of Briarstar's quiet grace and calm composure.
"I'm going to go tell Betonyfrost what happened." With tail high she stalked off to the nursery because there was one thing she shared with the miserable gray molly and that was gossip.
​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

ShadowClan has a tendency of limping into camp, covered in wounds, and bleeding into the packed earth. Smogmaw staggers in, supported by Clanmates, claiming it had been WindClan who'd attacked him without provocation. Granitepaw, despite himself, widens his eyes with shock. He's never had to really consider ShadowClan's proximity to WindClan; every time WindClan had attacked the other Clans, it had been of little consequence to the marsh-dwellers.

Now it seems, because of their shattered alliance, ShadowClan is the object of their ire.

The gray and white apprentice gives a general, rumbling agreement to the calls for Sootstar's blood that circle about their maimed deputy. He does not itch to fight the moorland cats; they are swift and ruthless, just like the tiny general who leads them. Still, ShadowClan should not be so visibly weak!

He's startled out of his thoughts by Chilledstar's yowl. He glances at their leader, wondering if they are fuming, too, but Chilledstar's rage is directed at them. Granitepaw's ears flatten, and he is almost rocked by the force of his memories. He can swear, in the black feline's place, a rosette tabby stands, foaming and driven mad by grief and paranoia.

Granitepaw can tell the tone in camp has shifted immediately. Smogmaw gives Chilledstar a strange look before he leaves for their den. Granitepaw searches for a familiar black and white pelt, concern glowing in his eyes. He longed to join her in Chilledstar's den, but he only nods at her as she passes in a show of solidarity.

Halfshade's ire causes Granitepaw to murmur quiet, wordless agreement. ShadowClan has never had a strong, composed leader -- he's beginning to think they never will.

He watches her depart for the nursery, and Granitepaw rises to his paws, stretching with an apparent expression of boredom etched onto his face. "Well," he says sarcastically, "time to find something else to fucking do."​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[DOGFUR]

The moment Smogmaw entered the camp—bruised and bleeding—Dogfur's mind immediately grasped for the name Starkiller, the fur along his spine rising as the tortoiseshell leapt up from his sprawled position. He made his way toward Ferndance's side. Cracked emotions sizzled off the ticked tabby's pelt like the scent of lightning, and Dogfur drew close to her, attempting to brush his pelt against @FERNDANCE 's for some sort of comfort. A purr rumbled in his chest, not a pleased one but one that was used to soothe illness and pain.

"Hm, hmm, hm," Dogfur mumbled. He had been wrong. It was WindClan. A cat with any brain could think that this was the natural order of the dissolution of the alliance. His gaze raked over Smogmaw and all at once an inappropriate smile cracked over his muzzle. The nervous raspy purr crescendoed and his toes tapped and dug into the soggy earth. No, Sootstar was no mad cat.

Chilledstar's cry to silence the rest of the cats was met with an anxious little trill from Dogfur's throat. His grin faltered and then picked up again. He watched the three of them disappear and Halfshade's exasperation is met with curious interest from flea-bitten ears.

"One, two, three. Unfortunately...." He purred. Three out of five leaders. He loved Gatherings for that. "That's just the qualification to be a star in these lands." Somehow Howlingstar had proved to be immune to it despite her name.

​

 

[BLOODHOUND.]

WHO IS THE LAMB AND WHO IS THE KNIFE? ☽⁺₊⋆
They'd expected at the very least, some sort of reassurance here, with worries forming pits in everyone's gut.

Chilledstar was not having much, seemingly reaching a breaking point, lashing out at their worried clanmates, assuaging few of their fears.

It left a bitter taste in the hybrid's mouth. Smogmaw elaborates more, before following Chillledstar's order. An attack on their land. Sootstar had done it herself. What was safe anymore? Did this mean to expect an attack on their camp soon?

Bloodhound hated the implications of it all. It set them on edge. For the moment, however, they were content to simply follow direction and uh, quote unquote fucking find something else to do, until their other clanmates speak up, out of earshot of the leaving triad, airing grievances with their recent string of leaders.

The pale hybrid listens quietly in on their other clanmates for a moment. Wondering perhaps if it was best that they not run straight into war, no matter how angry they are. WindClan was a much stronger clan. Larger. They were all only beginning to recover from the last few months. It would destroy them.

Sure, they hadn't appreciated Chilledstar's tone, but Bloodhound thinks that maybe they can understand the stress they were under, currently. Leafbare had been hard. They had only just begun to lead the clan. Pitchstar's body may as well still be warm. It was a lot of pressure at once, a lot of cats expecting a swift and violent response that was strong enough to send a message, or repay the kindness WindClan had shown tenfold.

Bloodhound says nothing. It isn't their place to judge. They turn and leave, anxiety digging a pit in their gut. Unsettled by all of this.

[☾]​

​