Home, Home Again {OPEN/Return topic}

At long last, the RiverClan cats had returned home—to what was left of it, that was. After the sheer fury of the flood sweeping through the forest, not much of the territories was left at all. In fact, there were barely any signs that the clan cats had ever inhabited it. Border-markers, camp boundaries—everything that they had established was gone. It was undoubtedly their home; they could tell that much. Scorchclaw had traversed the wetlands many times before, and he had known it like the back of his own paw. He had been familiar with every stream, almost every dip in the ground. As they passed through the remains of their territory, that sense of familiarity probably resonated in the heart of every cat older than a certain age. Strongly overlapping with the familiar, however, was the foreign. Large portions of the plant life had been ravaged, exposing vulnerable soil. The course of many streams had been altered, new ones even added. It was their home, but it was not. How much of what they had returned to was what they had left?  

... Wrong. It is all wrong.

Just as the land had changed, so had the RiverClan cats. Many of their number had been reduced, and a few had been gained. Those who had survived the flood would never forget their experiences. Now the ragged group stood at the edge of the island that had once been RiverClan camp. Scorchclaw, the only real leader they had to look to in Jaystar's absence, surveyed the wreckage at a glance. For a long moment, the large tabby was silent. With how still he stood, his paws could have been rooted to the ground. The dens that had been carefully maintained over moons, lovingly interwoven with beautiful shells, were nowhere to be seen. They had long been dashed to pieces and swept away. The ground was covered with filth that had washed up from the river. All it had taken was one flood; one flood, and all traces of the cats that had once lived here had vanished.

It was almost as if everything had been reset.

Scorchclaw clenched his jaws with force, his teeth grinding together. His whiskers quivered.

As long as something remains, we can rebuild. Already, new reeds and grasses were springing forth from the wreckage.

The RiverClan deputy drew a deep breath, as was his habit when he needed to calm down. Wasppaw and Dapplepaw were gone—headed with the others to the mountains. He could only guess how they were doing, hope that they would return to him. If his instinct was right, the mountains were also where Jaystar currently was. StarClan had left the leader one last life for a reason; he doubted they would have allowed Jaystar to die. For now, what was to be done? What could he see? What could he do regarding the situation in front of him? He had to protect the clanmates currently with him. Heading for the gnarled willow tree, he leaped into a low branch. If anything, the Willow Branch was still here. He was just as tired as the rest of the RiverClan cats were, but there were things he had to do. "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Willow Branch for a clan meeting!" He cried out, with as much strength as he could muster.

The journey had been a tough one, even for a strong and healthy warrior like her. The dilute calico she-cat entered the camp keeping her daughter near and she looked around, checking what remained of their former home. Luckily, the sand dried most of thw water and new walls of reeds were starting to grow back. However there was no den in good conditions and it was a miracle the willow tree was still alive. Probably, the cave under it which wa her father's home was destroyed too...

Hailsong lifted her head to Scorchclaw, who stood still for a few seconds before walking to the willow branch. It was clear he was tired... even lost. Nobody in the clan had a clue about their leader's fate. Was he up in the mountains, with the rest of their lost clanmates? Was Hawkpaw up there too...? She truly hoped so... losing another kit would be too much. The small she-cat nudged Mistlekit, encouraging her to move closer to the willow branch with eher. "This is our home... I know it doesn't look too good because of the flood... but soon, we can make this place a good place for you to grow up. I will make sure of that." She purred before licking the she-kit's forehead.

After the long, exhausting journey, they were finally home. Mistlekit's thin tail dragged behind her as she followed behind her mother, using the remainder of her strength to stumble into the desolated camp. Her legs buckled and she collapsed into the sand, the weariness from travel tugging at her bones. Her paw pads were sore from walking for so long. They were cracked and bleeding ever so slightly; not enough to cause too much worry, but were still pretty painful for her. 

"It'll be worth it though! We're finally home. Even if Finchkit.." 

The grief became fresh again. During the journey, Finchkit had collapsed and refused to wake up. Despite Hailsong's desperate cries and pleas as she tried to groom the kit awake, she never got up...Mistlekit shuddered, trying to blink back her own tears. When Finchkit's big amber eyes did not open again, she knew that she was dead. Gingerstripe and Dewshine didn't wake up...and Finchkit didn't neither. Tears slid down her cheeks, as much as she tried to seem strong. It wasn't fair! Finchkit had done no wrong! The gray and white tuxedo had noticed that her sister did seem a little bit weaker with each day but didn't think it was worth the concern...maybe she could've done something? Was it her fault that Finchkit danced among the stars now?...

 A gentle nudge disturbed her from her thoughts; Mistlekit gazed up at her mother, sniffling slightly. "This is our home now...I know it doesn't look too good because of the flood... but soon, we can make this place a good place for you to grow up. I will make sure of that," the dilute calico offered a reassuring smile and lapped at her tears, before giving her a comforting lick on the forehead. Mistlekit purred softly, a small smile coming to her face. "Mama always knows how to make me feel better...even if everything isn't ok..." Slowly, the gray and white she-cat stood up and followed after her mother.

Larkfeather saw the broken camp and let a small gasp of surprise.  He had never seen the camp like this.  The dens were all but swept away from the flood, a few scattered sticks the only things left of them.  The brown tabby knew that there was work to be done.  Wish Heronflight could help us clean up right now... he thought.  Heronflight went on the battle patrol to the mountains, and the brown tabby didn't know who would come back.  Heronflight was adamant that the battle party needed him, so he joined.  It was only a moon after we saw each other again, too...  Also, right after his battle practice with his apprentice, Dapplepaw, she chose to join the battle patrol.  Pushing the thoughts out of his mind, the brown warrior was going to start cleaning up the dead moss in the warrior den when Scorchclaw called for the clan's attention.  The young tom saw the deputy and looked at him intently, listening to what the tom had to say.

Ospreykit did not want to go home. He would of rather stayed at that stupid lake, than to ever come home again. It wasn't even a home anymore, there was barely anything left. His nest in the medicine den was destroyed, the nest where his mother and siblings had slept was gone, washed away like the rest of it. Like how his mother was washed away, how he and his siblings had eventually been washed away. It wasn't fair. He was fine, he had done nothing, nothing for anyone. He had cried and screamed and begged not to be left behind, and Finchstream had rescued him, made sure he was safe, He wished he could take all of it back, just so that his Finchstream would still be here. He missed her so much, so very much, and he had tried not to think about what had happened to forget that was his fault, but now walking through the destroyed camp, every memory of his mother was dredged up from his mind. Ospreykit wanted to cry right there, and then. To let it out, to beg StarClan to bring her back. He just wanted his family back together again.

The tom walked through the decimated camp, shoulders low and tail dragging, his self loathing only interrupted by Scorch-whatever his name was. Ospreykit's eyes flickered to the brown tom, narrowing. He didn't know whether to approach r not, he was still a kit, despite being far larger than some warriors. He'd of been an apprentice by now if it hadn't of been for that sickness. If it hadn't been for his sheer size there'd probably been enough room on that raft for his mother, and if he wasn't sick, if he had received his apprentice name with his siblings, maybe he could of dove in and saved her. It wasn't his fault, he knew that in a way, but at the same time it was.

The tom sighed deeply, dragging all his pain down with it, so that his usual tired expressionless mask remained. He stalked forward, pushing past the other cats until he stood at the front, waiting for Scorchfang to begin the meeting.

Scorchclaw dug his claws into the soft bark of the willow tree, steadying his weary figure. It occurred to him that he could simply have made his announcements from the ground, but he did not want to go to the trouble of jumping down now that he was already up here. The large tabby had to bite back the sigh that threatened to slip from parted jaws. He had to be strong for the sake of his clan. He had to give them a ray of hope, even when their home was in the state it was in. As the RiverClan cats slowly made their way over, Ospreykit caught Scorchclaw's eye. The young tom, whose title did not befit his size at all, was dragging his tail along the ground, his head low. The large tabby remembered that he was Finchstream's son, one of the many who had lost their loved ones to the flood. Grief hung like a mist over the island, an air of loss and mourning.

He did not want to lose yet another clanmate. He still had no idea what had become of Adderfeather.

Drawing a deep breath, Scorchclaw began slowly, "Cats of RiverClan, we have returned at last to our home. While it lies in shambles, it can be rebuilt. What matters most is that the days of journeying have come to an end. This land is undoubtedly ours, the one our ancestors have lived on for generations." His tone was somber yet firm. "We are all tired, but there is plenty of work to be done before we can rest. Apprentices, set about clearing the camp of debris. Larkfeather will supervise you. Let him know immediately if you find a threat. Our priority is to establish a makeshift shelter for the night. Any cat with injuries should let Fallowlight examine them as soon as possible. Warriors, we will go hunting."

Perhaps it was the optimism that came with youth (or nativity depending on your perspective), but Minnowkit looked around at the remains of the camp in fascination. She had been born after the flood and had never known the camp in it's former glory. She saw an adventure, new places to explore and things to see. She hardly listened as Scorchclaw gave instructions as she curiously tried to sniff some of the filth that had been washed up from the river during the flood. Her nose crinkled in disgust and her attention turned back to the deputy hoping no one noticed she hadn't payed attention to a single word he said.

As they entered the camp, Magpiepaw could hardly recognize the place that had once been his home; there were no dens, no prey-scent coming from the fresh-kill pile, no soft sand to comfort his aching paws.  All that remained was mud and debris, and a deep sensation of fear and nostalgia, as if he was walking through a burial site.  In a way, it kind of was, even though he could see no bodies or mounds of earth, like the one he had laid Cloudstone under.  Many of his clanmates had perished here...Finchstream, Cranepaw, Galepaw, and maybe even his mentor Adderfeather.  When the patrol returned from the mountains he would know...but until then, he was left in the dark.  Thinking of the brave group who had departed from the Clans though only summoned forth a renewed anxiety, for Dapplepaw had been one of the cats to leave.  He had wanted to protest, to beg his friend to stay, but his voice had not worked.  She left, venturing forth into the great unknown, leaving him with nothing else but to worry.  Oh StarClan please, protect her!  I don't want to lose anyone else...especially not my first real friend!  As his paws began to shake though, he caught sight of Ospreykit out of the corner of his eye...though calling him a kit didn't feel quite right anymore.  The gray tabby tom was taller than him, much taller.  The sorrowful expression on his face though was all too familiar, and Magpiepaw followed him through the crowd, settling down at the front beside his brother, resting a soft tail-tip upon his shoulder as Scorchclaw began to speak.  He knew most apprentices would probably be disappointed at having to clean the camp instead of hunt, but the news to him came as a deep relief.  Nodding obediently as the deputy finished his instructions, Magpiepaw offered Ospreykit a weak smile before padding off with the other apprentices to find a spot to clean.  Choosing the spot where the nursery had once been - the sight of an empty patch of dirt overwhelming him with emotional memories of his first sanctuary - he got to work picking up sticks, trying to distract himself from all of his worries.  Everything will be okay...I have to believe that.  We're home now, we'll rebuild...and maybe, I can finally be useful.

Adderkit watched the meeting and then watched as the apprentices helped clear the debris. He was far too young and small to be of any real help. It made him uneasy; the idea that so much was going on that he could not see or understand. All he could do was simply sit back and observe all the going-ons, and try to look encouragingly at all the cats who passed him.