Galeclan; Cats of the Moorlands (Open)

Shadowstep stared down Bristlethorn for several more moments after her words, as if looking for any cracks to show that she was lying, that she might truly be looking for weakness in him. However, he could find nothing to suggest it and as quickly as his anger had appeared, it seemed to evaporate as his fur lay flat once more. He couldn't begin to understand Bristlethorn's 'angle' so to speak and perhaps that alone was frustrating. Most cats were content to leave him be, the occasional still holding onto pass allegiances to cast suspicion and yet Bristlethorn was claiming she simply sought company. It was difficult for him to wrap his head around.

"Hmph.." The black cat snorted, perhaps almost embarrassed by the praise after his display. Bristlethorn really made no sense to him. "Regardless, Mossclan is far behind behind me. For now, we should probably collect our prey and get back to camp. We may yet be needed and it wouldn't do to be absent in such a case." he explained, though perhaps Shadowstep's true aim was to finally conceed to rest. His muscles were sore and his mind was growing foggy with exhaustion, it didn't help that those strange cats now brought further worry to his mind. Regardless, they'd spent enough time out here. "Would be a shame, and rather ironic, if you missed a hunting patrol due to being out hunting."

Despite his previous hostility, perhaps part of Shadowstep had enjoyed the company more than he'd like to admit, and certainly far more than he would think he deserved. Yet, even he was not without weakness and with exhaustion looming over him and the sun high in the sky, he felt a desperate need for some rest. It truly wouldn't do for Bristlethorn to risk missing a hunting patrol on his account either, assuming she was assigned for one. He hardly paid attention to hunting patrol assignments on a good day, but it wasn't as if he imagined Reedwing had prepared further hunting patrols yet anyway.

"Perhaps you'll even get sent out with a cat who actually slept this morning." he snorted, his tone almost bordering on playful but ever subdued by his grumpier disposition. "And I might not be opposed to your company again in the future." with those words, Shadowstep returned the direction they came, heading for the few kills they'd managed that morning.

Birchheart had remained quiet after the leader had left, observing the bodies with a silent vigilance, defeat weighing down his broad shoulders. To see those who grieved for the loss as well made his heart sink further, knowing well enough there was little anyone could do to ease the pain -- least of all the pain of unjustified deaths. The large ginger wasn't exactly a fan of violence as it was, but he certainly couldn't blame his clanmates for their anger and their desire for vengeance, even he was not immune to the desire to see justice done. Especially after being one of those that had brought the bodies back from the scene of the massacre. Perhaps it was with kindness he was pulled from his thoughts by the approach of the clan's deputy, his dear friend Reedwing, pressing against her gently as she sat beside him. Whether it was him offering comfort or seeking it was anyone's guess, but maybe he hoped it came acrossed as both.

The tom nodded softly in response to Reedwing's words, "Indeed, they will.. and let their courage grant us the strength and wisdom to see to it their sacrifices weren't made in vain." Although he couldn't say he'd had a particularly strong bond with any of those that lay before them, Birchheart was no less affected by the deaths of his clanmates. After all, he still had known them, and it was painfully easy to imagine those he was closer to among the bodies of the fallen. His eyes moved from the bodies to his companion, sympathy in his gaze, "How are you holding up, though? I can't imagine this being any easier for you."

From the hollow of the Medicine Cat's den stood the puffed up form of a very frighten Featherpaw, her eyes wide as she took in the scene of the dead cats in absolute shock. With all the commotion and the absence of her mentor at that time, the young cat had taken it upon herself to see what had happened and had hardly expected the grisly sight, let alone all the mournful cats gathering around. She hardly had the training to know how to approach this situation, although she wasn't sure there was much training to be had for dealing with the inevitability of death. As she slowly seemed to regain some composure, the young apprentice scanned the bodies laid out, as if seeking someone in particular, and though her shoulder's sagged heavily she didn't seem to grow more distressed by what she saw.

However, her gaze did fall upon the grieving form of her uncle, a look of pity in her eyes. She did not particularly grow close to those who associated with her family by default, but she could surely empathize with the loss. Yet it was her own uselessness that clutched coldly at her chest. There was nothing even the greatest Medicine cat could do about those that had already passed on, let alone a simple apprentice who'd barely begun training, nothing more but wish them well on their journey to starclan. However, alarm still sounded in her head as she frantically scanned the camp clearing, her paws moving on their own until she had accidentally bumped into Kestreltalon. "S-Sorry.." she muttered absently, not even able to tear her eyes from her search to see who or what she'd bumped into.

With neither hide nor hair of an apprentice's training group forming that morning, the deputy in charge of that for the day had been missing along with the dawn patrol, the ginger form of Firepaw had set out of camp to do some practicing on his own. He could have sought out Reedwing to ask her about it, but he hardly felt as if he were in the position to approach the active deputy in camp over something as selfish as his own training. As far as he was aware, Galeclan's territory had been fairly peaceful and he didn't intend to wander TOO far away. The young apprentice just wanted to get some kind of practice in and there was hardly a rule saying apprentices couldn't leave camp alone. Even so, by the time he stopped, he'd found himself among the fragrant plants and herbs of the Heather Beds.

Nevertheless, despite some odd scents and stranger sightings on the way, Firepaw felt it had been a pretty normal day -- absolutely unaware of the tragedy currently being suffered back in camp. He couldn't say his hunting had born any results, but practice was practice. It was frustrating to be unsuccessful, but it was simply the learning curve relative to being an apprentice and he was taking that in stride the best he could. However, being among the sickly-sweet fragrances was throwing him off quite a bit and he knew any attempts at continuing hunting here would likely be for naught, well, that and he had to remember to tell his mother somethign when he returned home. The problem now presenting itself before him was that he'd grown a bit.. uh, disoriented and wasn't able to find the scent leading him out of the thick bunches of flowering plants. He was rather lost.

The familiar voice of Kestreltalon seemed to pull Featherpaw out of her stupor, finally registering she'd run into him specifically. "Ah, Uncle Kestreltalon.." she murmured, her wide eyes turning to the ginger colored tom, "I, well, yes, that's appropriate but..." she seemed to be struggling to get out what she was trying to express without seeming inconsiderate. She was relieved to see her mother, Wisteriaflower, leaping down into the clearing some distance away, at least putting that concern at ease and yet someone was still missing.

"L-Listen.. you haven't seen Firepaw, have you?" she managed to sputter out, her anxiety certainly flustering the young cat more than one might have expected from a Medicine Cat's Apprentice. Although there was no sign of the ginger apprentice among the bodies, his absence was greatly worrying Featherpaw knowing now that a threat out there was powerful enough to take down a whole patrol. A single apprentice would hardly stand a chance against a threat like that if he ran into them, though she was perhaps jumping to conclusions.

Toadpaw had spent that morning nestled quietly within a crook to the far side of the camp, the remnants of an earlier meal tucked off to the side behind him. He'd spent the day resting quietly there, his head on his paws and remained fairly unnoticed by his clanmates, which is was not particularly upset by. However, as the dead cats were drug in, The apprentice had awoken with wide startled eyes. By the time everything had settled into the heavy atmosphere of mourning, the long limbed tom had sunken back further, his fur puffed up and his ears flat. He remained silent, unwilling to approach the scene initially, and couldn't help but wish he'd remained in his mossy nest that morning. He remembered seeing his father that morning, and yet he couldn't help but fear seeing the long limbed black body among the bodies. After all, he'd seen a number of bodies crumpled and dead that once belonged to those he cared for.

Perhaps it was this fear that caused the slender tom to slowly and tentatively return to his paws, pushing himself upright. Refusing to look upon the clearing, he inched around the edge of the camp until the opening of the Apprentice's den lay but a few tail lengths ahead of him and then made a dash for it, slipping easily in the den. Within the comforting darkness, he pushed his way to the far back and half buried himself in the moss, hoping he might just wake from this to find he had just had a bad dream.