WindClan 'Gathering' April 2022

Maplepaw couldn't help the feeling of drowsiness that was in her small frame from the training she had that day. But it seemed that there would be more going on in the camp tonight. She'd heard rumors of what would normally take place during a full moon, and glancing at the sky, her judgement said that it was time for such. She found her place outside of the apprentice's den, and her tail swished with curiosity and hesitation as what was to come of the evening.

Swiftspirit was uncharacteristically quiet as she sat hunched over near the edge of camp, striped tail slowly flicking back and forth in anger as she glared at the dark forest cats chatting in the center of camp as if nothing was amiss. Then again, Tawnyflare at least wouldn't have really cared if one of her own kits died, Swiftspirit was fairly sure, so why would any of them care that Swiftspirit had just buried one of her own kits because of the foxhearted creatures? Alone she sat, coldly watching them, eyes like chips of ice. Her ears remained flat to her head. The absolute last thing Swiftspirit wanted to do was talk to any of those foul beasts. Occasionally her head would turn, searching for her remaining kits to ascertain their safety. She couldn't shake the feeling that they would be lost to them, just as Magpiesight and Bearspirit had been.

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Brackenpaw sat, uneasily watching as the dark forest cats talked in the middle of camp. Her training had been progressing well enough, but she was much too uneasy to approach them. She'd been too young to really know her half-sister, but what little interactions with her that she'd had, Magpiesight had been nice. Brackenpaw had memories of her visiting the nursery regularly, often with fresh-kill. And the dark forest had just... Just... She shook her head, turning away with a shiver. Her gaze found her mother sitting near the edge of camp, and Brackenpaw hesitated, wondering if she should approach. Swiftspirit looked distraught. Distraught and angry.

As usual, the medicine cat apprentice didn't want to leave the safety of his den. The tom wasn't ready to be among his clanmate with the scar reminding everyone about his failures as a warrior. Still, Fawnsong stepped out of his cave and remained still at the entrance. His eyes looked to the sky, meeting the full moon on a starless night. Supposedly, tonight they would be going to the Gathering but... was it safe? Would the Dark Forest cats allow it? What was Goldenstar going to do? He had to be there and listen...

Mistysky was on edge all day that day, weary eyes keeping track of every cat in the Clan, living or otherwise. She did not want any cat she didn't trust going near her Specklekit. The nursery, at that point, was practically empty, so Mistysky had taken it upon herself to stand guard, going in and out to make sure her kit stayed healthy and safe. She refused to lose this one. She didn't care if she was being overprotective, it was better than not caring at all.

Meanwhile, trouble came for Swiftspirit in the form of a fox-pelted she-cat. "Swiftspirit! It's been so long! I saw you and your mate at the gathering, how is he? Oh, and that precious black and white kit of yours! Well, I guess she was a warrior already, not a kit, so she didn't matter much. If anything it was a good thing! After all, with your blood, she was only destined to be weak, even if my son's might have diluted it."

Scorchtalon padded over to sit next to Fawnsong, his normally messy ginger fur sticking up even more than usual. The uncomfortable silence of his clanmates sitting among... them, made him uneasy, especially knowing that it had officially been a full moon since they were taken over by re-animated corpses. It hadn't gotten any easier to live with, the presence of the dark-forest warriors was a constant overhanging cloud the Windclan cats were forced to live under. He had no desire to talk to them, choosing instead to watch them with narrowed, cautious eyes and shift closer to his brother.

Swiftspirit's ears flattened as the familiar, hated, fox-pelted she-cat approached her, a low growl rumbling in her chest as Tawnyflare began to speak. "Bearspirit is no concern of yours, Raisha." She snapped defensively, anger flashing in her eyes. "Magpiesight mattered. She was more of a warrior than you ever were." Swiftspirit growled, tail lashing back and forth more quickly with Tawnyflare's approach. "I'll never be as weak as you, abandoning your own kits and fighting your own clanmate in the middle of a war. You've always been a petulant kitten, throwing tantrums when you couldn't get your way." She sneered, claws unsheathing. Fighting Raisha was the last thing she should do, Swiftspirit knew that. But her former mentor's presence wasn't a welcome one, and while she'd lived it had always been a struggle to be the bigger person and walk away from the petty insults and foxdung. Now... Now Swiftspirit wasn't so sure she wanted to walk away. A snort left her, "Don't pretend to have pride in your kits, we all know better than that."

"No. I never wanted kits. I was born and raised a fighter, I couldn't handle being constricted to the nursery. I even told Fawnstep that. But he was so set on how our mixed blood could make powerful kits. And he said he would take care of them. And then I helped fight against SkyClan, and apparently even that was wrong because Ryesnap all but chased me out. But how much did you care? You seemed pretty happy when my son died. And what about your own kits? None of them even lived longer than you! You spent so much time pining for the RiverClanner you hardly noticed your own Clan! At least while I was here, I followed the code. Can you claim that?"

Raisha looked at Swiftspirit, a smug grin on her face, before sitting down and turning her attention to another cat....Brackenpaw. "Hey, kit, no need to be shy. Why don't ya join us? I've been getting pretty lonely, it'd be nice to have a little chat with some of you younger cats!"

"You were born and raised a vile brute with no empathy or care for others. Nothing more than an embarrassment to the clan and to Asylum. You did one thing right, and that was showing both myself and Timbersun who we never wanted to be." Swiftspirit couldn't help the snide remark. Moons of anger and resentment toward her former mentor bubbling to the surface. "It takes two, Raisha, you act like they were such a burden you had no choice in creating." Stars, but her so-called mentor was a disgusting piece of work. "Happy? Don't project your feelings onto me, I mourned him too, even if our relationship was over. Our kits always knew their parents loved them and would never abandon them out of selfishness."

A low, threatening growl escaped Swiftspirit's throat as Raisha approached Brackenpaw, the Windclanner stalking toward the two. Before she could reach her daughter, she was speaking however. "You talk about her kits like some of us aren't standing right here, foxface." Brackenpaw hissed, a rare spark of defiant anger shining in her eyes as she glared up at the strange dark forest cat who had approached her. What she'd said about her mother was simply untrue! It was just plain foxhearted. Despite the hostility radiating off of both she-cats, Brackenpaw was driven to try and defend her mother since this Raisha had seen fit to involve her in the conversation. For the moment, the fact that the she-cat was wearing the pelt of a fox and was stronger than she had any right to be didn't matter. "She's a great mother, she cares about us! Why are you so focused on harassing her over things she couldn't control? Can't you just let others grieve in peace? Obviously you broke the code too if you wound up in the dark forest, it's a bit hypocritical to be arguing, isn't it?" She'd never met Timbersun, and it could not have been more obvious that Brackenpaw simply didn't care at all about him or this she-cat that insisted on bringing his name up. What she did care about was that her mother was upset, and that this Raisha wasn't helping. Swiftspirit had reached her, planting herself firmly between Brackenpaw and the dark forest cat, tail flicking irritably across Brackenpaw's face. "Enough, Brackenpaw. Don't involve yourself in this." Brackenpaw balked at her mother's rebuke, but reluctantly fell silent. "Now you-" The growl had returned to Swiftspirit's voice, short fur bristling as she shifted to keep the walking dead in her sight, "-this is between us, don't involve innocents in your foxdung."

Sagepaw padded cautiously out of the apprentice den. A few cats were already gathered, including Swiftspirit and Brackenpaw, who were talking to one of the undead warriors. It didn't seem to be a friendly exchange, though conversations with the Dark Forest cats were often anything but. Turning away, she spotted a few older apprentices sitting together and padded over to join them. They'd never really talked much, but she would much rather spend time with this cat than engage in the argument that was happening with her mother and sister.

"Hey," She said quietly. It probably wasn't the most interesting way to start a conversation, but with the camp wrapped in a blanket of uncomfortable tension, she didn't really know what else to say.

Shimmerpaw had been fairly absent-mindedly swatting at butterflies in camp. With the arrival of warmer weather, the bugs had started to appear. These small creatures were so different from what he was used to seeing... and he might have been a little fascinated by them. Raisha and his mom began talking... or... arguing and it pulled him out of his butterfly hunt. His mom was really upset.

Shimmerpaw went to her side and found just enough courage to release a small growl at the Dark Forest cat. "Do you want to lose an ear?" He growled, arching his back and fluffing out his tail to seem as big as possible. Another glance at the mysterious shadows of darkness that surrounded every Dark Forest cat reminded him in his fury of who he was talking to. ...Oops... Shamelessly... Shimmerpaw swiftly added more onto his sentence. "...Because Brackenpaw will absolutely take your ear!" Furthermore... Bearspirit. That had been the name of his father right? Was this the Dark Forest cat that killed him? Shimmerpaw didn't know how to feel about that. He'd never met his dad, but Swiftspirit had only ever said good things about him.

Blazepaw padded through camp, largely ignoring the shadowy Dark Forest cats. After all, she was so used to them being here. They’d stood guard when she emerged from the nursery, and their presence was normal for her, if a bit eerie. She stayed alert since the adults were wary of them though. Sitting down near the nursery, Blazepaw spoke to Mistysky. “Is everything all right?”

Ever watchful, Owlpaw prowled on the edge of the camp, pale eyes flicking from group to group. Tonight should have been their first Gathering - he and his siblings - but in camp they remained, in this brittle, hostile environment that was all he'd ever known. Owlpaw didn't have any real interest in participating in the conversation - he wasn't a cat of many words, and never really had been, but at the sound of raised voices, his ears flicked, and his gaze slid over to see his mother and two siblings locked in an argument with one of the Dark Forest cats.

For a heartbeat, he hesitated, long tail swaying, deliberating... and then his paws carried him forward, off to the side of the small group and behind the Dark Forest cat his mother was spitting at. He lined up in the perfect position to beeline straight for Raisha should the need arise, and hunched down, belly brushing the grass. Owlpaw feigned a casual disinterest, but every muscle in his body was tensed and ready, and his ears were trained on the conversation. Say the word, mother, and we'll rip the mangepelt to shreds. Or die trying.