the moment to live and the moment to die [open]

ShadowClan's camp was usually peaceful during the day, or as peaceful as camp ever was when most cats were asleep. Thalia had been waiting anxiously for the return of the battle patrol (in part because Pineblossom had been a part of it, and she cared dearly for her former apprentice, wanted to congratulate her and to wish her well), but hadn't expected them to carry bodies- alive or unconscious- through the entrance, hadn't thought they would mourn the dead.

For just a moment she was somewhere else, in WindClan's camp with blood staining her paws, and she shook her head. That was- not another her, not another life, but a different time and place.

Something terrible had happened tonight, that was more than certain.

She was pulled from her somewhat shocked state as Tawnyshadow called for her to join a patrol, at Nightstar's request. Right- she was one of the usual day guards, a task which allowed her to aid ShadowClan and enjoy the sunlight most of the Clan slept through.

---

The chaos was distant to Leopardsun's ears at first, the world slowly coming back into focus as she came back to herself. Not completely, but enough to actually acknowledge her surroundings. No sound escaped her (she had a sinking feeling that it might take time; she didn't know what she would do if she'd lost it for long).

Nightstar's admonishment would have had her snapping at him (and undoubtedly making things worse, for herself and everyone around), had she really heard it in the moment and not as a distant haze. What was so hard to understand? Echomist was right, and she would not see him exiled for speaking what was clearly truth.

As he ordered her to make a place for the prisoner, she wanted to snap again but bit her tongue (not that any sound would have come, but the gesture would have spoken clearly- of that she was certain); it was a task that would keep her paws busy, but- there were still bodies left to bury.

She wanted to ask someone else to handle it. She couldn't.

Slowly, reluctantly, she rose to her paws- not venturing more than a fox-length or two from the bodies- and set about her task. Not because he had told her to, but because the prisoner was a threat; a threat to Harriertalon and Badgermask and Echomist and every cat she'd let herself love. So without distancing herself from the still forms of her kits, she worked to keep the living safe from harm.

Focus on the living, she reminded herself. The dead were dead, and she was not.

(Even if she felt she should be, that it should be her in their place. Wouldn't it be fair, that she pay for her own mistakes? This wasn't worth the blood spilled.)

The dead were dead forever, while the living were still standing in the daylight; and she had a responsibility to ShadowClan before she had a responsibility to herself.

Blood brought Burdockroot back to camp. The stench was harsh in the air and it drew her in as it would a predator. Grabbing all of the herbs she had spent hours looking for today so far for injuries like she was about to walk into, she sprinted back to camp and bursted in at the end of Nightpaw's speech. Such an arrogant little kit. Snarling to herself through the herbs, the trained medicine cat scanned the clearing. Harriertalon was working on a cat already, and some warrior pointed out Badgermask to her in the den. It would probably be best if she worked on Harrier's sibling, especially with two of them lying still in the entrance of camp. Hustling to her den, she burst in to find Badgermask weak in a nest. Dropping the herbs at her side, she looked over Badgermask and began working. "It will be okay. I will save you. Harrier does not need more loss today." Burdockroot meant it. She'd do everything in her power to keep Badgermask alive for Harrier. So she did, and worked harder and more swiftly than she ever had before.

Snowfoot watched the proceedings from the elders’ den, her heart pounding harder every second. Her great-niece and great-nephew were dead. They’d died at the claws of WindClan. Even if Nightpaw’s attack on the WindClan youth at Highstones was unprovoked, WindClan had more than paid them back. Snowfoot didn’t want to see another war, but it seemed she had no choice. For now, she padded over to Swiftheart and offered a shoulder to lean on.

Rookfire knew his loyalties were strained, so he chose to not go through with the patrol. Even if war was inevitable, it didn't mean that he had to like it. Still, he had to know when to hold his tongue and when to speak up.

When the patrol returned without Moondancer and Batswarm, he assumed that they were captured by ShadowClan, and that the patrol was a failure. Then the tom noticed a warrior that smelled like WindClan, and he got immediately confused. Did both groups take prisoners? How did that-

Then, he saw their limp bodies, and he realized exactly what had happened. "Moondancer and Batswarm... They're..." ...dead. He barely knew them, yet it hurt knowing that they'd never come back. He knew they'd probably be gazing from StarClan, but this war was not worth the death of his clanmates.

He was about to speak, but Echomist interrupted first. As the brown warrior spoke - yowled - about Nightstar's - well, Nightpaw's - actions, about Leopardsun's insistence about going to war, about WindClan's anger. Nightpaw snapped back, threatening Echomist with exile after he had the guts to stand up to the former ShadowClan leader.

Rookfire couldn't keep his mouth shut anymore. He had to stand with Echomist.

"He's doing this because he loves his family, Nightpaw!" Rookfire snarled. "He's speaking the truth for their sake, even if he's kicked out for doing so! So don't you dare try and threaten him for speaking what he thinks is right!" He turned towards Leopardsun, who despite being present in the discussion seemed tree-lengths away. Quickly turning back to the tom who was refusing to take accountability, Rookfire growled.

"I, for one, am tired of trying to silence myself to protect you and your own ego! I've held my tongue for you for moons, never talking bad about you unless ShadowClan itself was for it. So, I'm not going to listen to orders that you, either. ShadowClan needs someone else to lead." Leopardsun was somewhat better than Nightpaw, but she committed to a war without realizing the consequences. (Rookfire himself didn't think of the potential deaths, so it wasn't something that he held fully on her, but it was a trait that ShadowClan's next leader would have to have.)

Either way, this should cause big changes in ShadowClan.

A slender cinnamon tom stood up out of the crowd. “My father speaks wisely,” he called. “WindClan would have no quarrel with us if not for Nightpaw’s actions. I am not qualified to suggest who should lead ShadowClan, but I will stand against Nightpaw and with my father.” Emphasizing his point, Sunflare cut through the clamor of cats to stand squarely beside Rookfire. He offered his father a smile, seemingly genuine but with everything behind it. The former medicine cat would perhaps make a decent leader, and Sunflare wanted to be remembered as the cat who first stood for him.

Suddenly they stopped, and then there were voices, so many voices. Owlshade finally lifted his head, blinking exhaustedly. Sobs, gasps, yelling voices now accompanied the visages of dozens of ShadowClanners as they pressed in to welcome the patrol home. Their relief turned to horror when they saw the bodies draped across the spotted deputy's back. Owlshade couldn't bring himself to care. He also couldn't bring himself to look at Moondancer's body. Accusatory, venom-laced glances from other ShadowClanners drew only a pale blue stare in return. These cats hated him. He hated them, too. I don't regret it, he wanted to snarl at them. I would do it again.

If that were true, perhaps he would have said it. Instead, he just sat there, shoulders slumped, marsh water dripping from his pale, muddied coat. The ShadowClanners argued back and forth, but he tuned out their words into unintelligible background noise. He didn't give a rat's tail what any of these cats had to say. Especially Nightstar, who sauntered over and loomed above, teeth bared. What little fire Owlshade had left in him blazed up behind scorching blue eyes, and he opened his mouth and spat at the ShadowClan leader, ears slicked back, muck-drenched tail lashing angrily.

He actually paid attention to the next words that left the dark tom's mouth, but he didn't justify it with a retort. If they wanted to shove him in a dark hole and leave him alone, that was great. All he needed was a little rest and he'd be ready to go again.