Well, These COULD Be Feelings [closed for Sal]

Shrikestorm was lying near the warrior den, a rare moment of rest for the warrior. The longer their occupiers stayed, the more he felt the need to be out of camp doing something. Even though he couldn't leave without accompaniment, it was better than just sitting around on his paws. Even he needed a rest though, so he was taking one, though he was already wondering if there was anything else to do. In those few moments of respite, his mind tended to wander, and this time his mind wandered towards his former apprentice, Snowbriar. He was proud of the warrior she had become, but now he had to reckon with seeing her in a different light. She wasn't a little apprentice he was training anymore: she was a warrior now, on the same level as he was. More than that, they had spent a lot of time together, even after she had been given her warrior name. Hunting, patrols, time in camp: he found it nice to have that familiar face with him throughout these trying times. It really meant something to him.

After going on a midnight patrol, Snowbriar had slept until it was almost sunhigh. As she woke, the sun was warm on her back, as there was no cover in the open den (if you could call a scoop in the ground that). She rose, stretched, and began to groom until her white fur was shining in the sun. "Hey, Shrikestorm," she mewed as she spotted his brown pelt. May as well spend some time with him; it doesn't look like either of us have anything better to do. She enjoyed his company, and hoped he enjoyed hers in the same way. Amber eyes surveyed the camp as she sat down beside her former mentor. It didn't look like any Asylum cats were listening to them, anyway; their eyes occasionally drifted past, but that was unavoidable.

"Hello Snowbriar," Shrikestorm mewed in greeting, smiling as she sat down beside him. He scooted a little closer, until their sides were pressed together. The sun was rapidly rising overhead, but the warmth he felt with Snowbriar was much nicer, especially with the chill of Leafbare still holding onto the moors by its cold tendrils. "Did you sleep well?" He looked her way, able to see a couple of their clanmates milling around, as well as the Asylum cats farther beyond. Their presence was an eyesore, and he did his best to pretend they weren't there.

"I slept fine. Could be better, or worse," she hummed, chest fluttering as she allowed their pelts to touch. "How about you?" She tilted her head slightly to look over at him, watching rivulets of sunlight swirling across their pelts. He seemed happy, really, besides the feeling of being always watched (the reality, not just a feeling). "Anything on your mind?" she asked, wrapping her tail around her paws. They did not often talk besides the usual training advice, or on patrols with Asylum cats in close proximity, so she would welcome a chance to make normal conversation with him. The company was welcome, at the moment.

"I slept alright." It was partially true. He couldn't complain about the rest he was getting, but it always came with an undercurrent of worry: about Asylum, StarClan, and the state of the forest in general. It wasn't often that his mind was free to actually think of things besides that. "I'm just worried about the clan," he admitted, lowering his voice not only because of their forceful guardians, but because he wasn't sure he wanted the rest of their clanmates to hear it yet. "When I spoke to StarClan at the Moonstone, they told me something bad was coming because we had turned our backs on our ancestors. Then this happened, and... well, it's hard not to believe this is what they meant." Their pelts were touching, but Shrikestorm wanted to somehow get closer still. It felt comforting actually being able to confide in someone else.

Snowbriar tilted her head at his mention of worry. If it was worry of the Asylum, that was justified; but he wouldn’t be saying it like it was a confession. What he said came as a shock to her, though she kept a straight face. “How have we turned our backs on them?” she murmured softly. “Before we were born, did the Clan not just fight with them?” The molly rested her chin on her paws. It seemed annoying to her that their ancestors would choose to send a message to him, and not her. Yes, he was older, but she wanted to be worthy of something like that. “They said nothing of the sort to me, but… Have you told Lilacstar?”

"From what they told me, it seems that the clans have been turning their backs on StarClan's teachings. Allowing rogues to enter our clans and letting cats hop freely between clans, it would seem that they won't help us with our plight because of this." Shrikestorm knew of the war the clans had against StarClan. While he wasn't born, it was a tale passed down from the elders, so he knew it well. However, after speaking with Falconstar, he couldn't help but wonder if the clans had been wrong. If only he could get more information about it. "No, I haven't," he responded, shaking his head. "I had spoken about it to Olivestar when I became a warrior, but she wasn't receptive to it."

“I don’t think...” Snowbriar trailed off, allowing him to finish fully. She shifted away from him slightly. An edge came into her tone as she spoke. “Of course Olivestar wasn’t receptive to it - she was once a loner, no? I get where you’re coming from, but...” How do I say that, if they had something so important to say, it wouldn’t be to you? “I—I’m not sure how to help you here. I suppose the best thing to do would be talk to Lilacstar. If you were to do something about it, what would it be? It’s not like we can kick anyone without pure blood out of the Clans. Also, haven’t you heard of the Righteous Few story?” She inhaled, and exhaled, turning her gaze to the side. The molly believed Shrikestorm, but this didn’t make sense.

“Where do you stand? I know you believe what StarClan has told you, but—” Hopefully he wouldn’t be nationalistic enough to want to kick anyone with a touch of non-WindClan blood out of the Clan. Maybe she was taking this to the extremes; who knew. Snowbriar sighed and curled her tail up, forcing her claws not to unsheath out of agitation.