The Aftermath [ALL]

It had been quite some time since they had even dared to come back to the camp, but finally, today was the day. Today was the dreaded day that had hung heavily on Thrushstripe's shoulders since they were run out of their home. He led a large group of Shadowclan warriors back through the territory and toward the camp where complete and utter destruction had ensued. It was awful, remembering back to what had happened. Yet, he really only had one reason of going back, that was, if no other clans had taken over the camp like Windclan did with the old Skyclan territory. Then what could Shadowclan do? They didn't have the strength or the energy to run them out, so they were pretty much stuck in the tunnel.

As the entrance of the camp finally came into view, he stopped and lifted his nose into the air. Several scents washed by including the remnants of all three clans, but they were stale. On top of that was the smell of crowfood and despair, but thankfully no living clan cat inside. "Alright, let's go. Be careful. We bury the dead first and continue from there. We have a lot of work to do." he commanded before taking those first dreaded steps into the camp. Everything he saw was horrifying. The dens were torn apart and could barely be identified; herbs laid shredded all across the ground and stomped into the mud, there wasn't a single piece of prey in the fresh-kill pile left untouched that wasn't crowfood already, but what was worse were the three bodies lying across the clearing. Covered in mud with their pelts stuck down onto their sides. Blood was everywhere, but Thrushstripe's main focus was the body that was towards the edge of the camp, the fur matted with mud with blood still staining the ground around it. The pale ginger she-cat that had always been there for Thrushstripe and had helped him through so much even after she had isolated herself from the clan. He didn't dare look for too long, but his eyes couldn't move away from the missing flesh at her throat or the small holes where her eyes used to be. All he could feel as he continued to stare was pure rage-- pure hatred for the rest of the clans, but Riverclan mostly. He knew what Reedstar had done, but there was nothing left to do but start over. "Start cleaning up. I'm going to need a few warriors to help me gather the dead."

Redshade padded into camp, looking around with a blank expression. His gaze rested on Gingerheart for a moment, but not long as it continued its travel around the rest of camp. The tom had come to help as he was one of the warriors and it was their duty; however much he disliked it. Now, along with several others, they had arrived at the stinking camp that smelled of dried blood and crow-food to clean it all up. They had to clean up the dumb mess that the other clans had made, and sure enough they had gone far from overdoing it. heck, attacking with all three clans against one had been overdoing it in the first place.

The russet tom huffed but perked his ears as Thrushstripe began to order them to work, and listened as he talked about burying the bodies of their dead clanmates. Sounded better than cleaning up crow-food and rebuilding dens. He looked to Thrushstripe and tipped his head. "I'll help. I'm strong enough to help carry the...Bodies, without dropping them." He murmured, trying not to upset the deputy even more. He saw that look that rested on Gingerheart.

Once she had found the strength to join up with the rest of her clan, they had discussed their plans to move back into the camp; it took little time to decide that she should go back with them. Amongst the clan, she was one of the  strongest, at the moment; having eaten just a bit more than the others and being one of the few who hadn't had anyone claw her in the attack. She also refused to let her kits stay in the tunnels any longer, fearing the stench and sounds would make the little ones deaf and blind.
The tabby carried the smallest two in her jaws while the other two walked. She went straight to the nursery, looking no where else, she poked her head in to be sure that there were no surprises inside before guiding the kits in. "Rest here." Mistflower said simply before backing away. It was then she noticed the dry, shredded nests, and the many torn walls of the bramble den.

With a sigh, she backed away and left, looking to the camp for the first time. It left her mortified, to say the least, as she hadn't looked when they were fleeing. There was so much destruction. And blood everywhere, mostly their own - the stench lingered on her tounge. The worst part was the familiar white tom left wrangled by the warrior's den. Or the young apprentice with her guts literally spilled on the ground. The scent of death hung heavily in the clearing, and she could feel the bile rise up her throat when she saw the bodies had given home to flies and maggots. "They left them here like crowfood..." She said shakily, her voice wavering in disbelief.
It wasn't until her gaze fall on Gingerheart that she felt herself break, seeing her old mentor still and sightless in the mud. The young she-cat did her best to hold back a grief-stricken wail. The ginger had been so strong and proud, and so stubborn, Mistflower could never imagine StarClan come for her.
Unnervingly, she walked slowly up to the body, not willing to have Redshade do it alone for her.

After the last kit was placed in the nursery, Cormorantpelt turned her gaze on her surroundings: The brambles that once concealed their home, the dens they once slept in, the bodies left to rot while ShadowClan regained its strength... All of it made her stomach churn with a mixture of anger and guilt. Anger because Soulfang's stupidity had enraged RiverClan's leader enough to join forces with two other clans just to take out ShadowClan. Guilt because her stupidity in thinking that kidnapping a WindClan apprentice would solve all their problems. Not only did it fail, but it also gave WindClan a reason to join in.

Golden-yellow eyes drifted this way and that until they stopped on a familiar silver pelt. 'Mistedpaw'. Although her muscles fought against it, Cormorantpelt made her way over to him anyway. And threw up half way there.

"Great StarClan--" Her voice shook as she took in the sight: Mistedpaw's belly was torn open and maggots were wriggling about his insides that spilled about. To top it all off, the smell that came from him was three times as worse as the smell of Carrion Place. The warrior  moved closer, scraping the dried up mud over the rotting corpse as best as she could. It was was obvious she couldn't carry the body with guts poking out or there would be an even bigger mess...

Covering her paws in thick mud Cormorantpelt pushed them back in and used some more of the thick mud to keep the wound sealed. 'Curse you for dying like this, Mistedpaw...' Grabbing the bloody scruff in her jaws, she lifted the smaller cat up off the ground as much as she could and dragged him to what used to be the entrance. Once the other bodies were here he could be buried.

Bluekit was in awe at the camp, she hadn't seen anything like this! All she had known until now was darkness. Darkness with every meal, step, and wake. But for some reason, she didn't feel safe where Mistflower had told her and her siblings to stay. Her tail-tip curled, the kit slipped out of the 'den', and finally had enough time to take in her surroundings. Filled with awe, she started to walk around, exploring and trying her best not to be seen. So this is our home? The kit thought, confused as to why it looked so... torn up. She took in a deep whiff of the air, the smell of something rotting making her feel like she would vomit. But Bluekit could also smell blood... it made her even more curious as to what had happened. No, it couldn't be our home! But... why did Mistflower insist it is? It looks like a twoleg came in and destroyed it! Bluekit's thoughts distracted her from noticing the dead body in front of her, and her face had a look of disgust. Shadowclan couldn't have lived like this... those smells basically proved it. Yet, unless she asked someone, the blue kit would never know what had actually happened. Maybe it was for the best that she didn't? Bluekit sure didn't know.

OOC: okay. Just to be clear, this topic is just for cleaning up. It's in preparation to move in later. My bad.

As soon as Thrushstripe heard another voice, he quickly snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Redshade. His face was once again stone-cold, showing no emotion of any sort as he glanced around at the three dead warriors and apprentice, only to stop when he saw that Cormorantpelt was already trying to gather up Mistedpaw. Turning back to the tom, the deputy pointed towards the other warrior. "Alright then. You can take Daisynose. I'll get Gingerheart," he responded before walking towards the un-moving figure. When he finally reached the she-cat, he looked up to see Mistflower standing not too far away, all of her emotions flashing on her face. The grief and the horror. Everything that Thrushstripe felt but chose to hide away-- to shove down so far that they didn't show. At least, not now. Someone had to stand strong for the clan. Even if he was in bad shape from the fight, he couldn't look it. Not now, not ever. Slowly and carefully, Thrushstripe bent down and tried picking up Gingerheart but pausing for just a second to look back at the queen. "Mistflower, if you don't mind, you can start cleaning up what is left of the herbs that were strewn about. See if there's anything salvageable that we can take back to Mallowroot."

Scorchclaw entered the wreck of a camp and he found himself searching for Cormorantpelt. His amber eyes found her dragging as muddy and bloody Mistedpaw, and he found himself sorry for her. "Here, I'll help." The dark grey and black tom offered, and took the other half of his body next to the grey she-cat. "Curse ThunderClan and the others for doing this to us. They killed an apprentice, what kind of inhumane cat a thinking I dare not know." He growled.
After setting the young cat down, Scorchclaws head swivelled to get a full view of the wreckage. "This will take forever to get it back to even half of what it use to be." The warrior sighed.

Redshade for once was silent, and he nodded with the acceptance of his orders. The russet tom padded over to Daisynose and shook his head slightly at the sight. Basically mutilated in battle; but she was dead now, so it shouldn't matter much. Cats couldn't control how they died unless it was suicide, and even then some sort of unexpected accident could occur.
He bent down and scrunched his nose at the smell of crowfood. Seeing some maggots, he quickly brushed what ones weren't in the wound away and then covered her wounds with mud, just in case some maggots fell out on him while he carried the deceased she-cat. Once it was done, he carefully shimmied his shoulders and head under the body, lifting it with his nose to make things easier. Once she was out across his back, he lifted up, finding her surprisingly light(probably because she was dead and stuff). Not really light, but lighter than expected. He padded slowly and carefully to avoid letting the corpse slide off his back onto the ground again, and padded towards the camp entrance. He'd bury her outside.