Where Do We Go from Here? {All of ShadowClan}

The deputy had barely seen anyone as they came and went in and out of the tunnel. He had been sitting just a few fox lengths away from the entrance ever since they arrived, just staring into Shadowclan's territory with a blank expression. Vaguely did he hear any of the conversations that went on inside. One of them was about kits being somewhere in a cave. That was all he picked up, but he felt like that was all he needed to hear. Just great. More kits to take care of at a time like this. But Thrushstripe couldn't bring himself to do or say anything about it. As a matter of fact, he'd been numb ever since they arrived. His injuries stung and his head throbbed from being slammed onto the ground time after time, but it all sat in the back of his mind after what he saw moments before leaving camp. He was almost out of camp until he heard that scream. That soul-ripping shriek that came from none other than his own mother. It was mortifying just to hear, but the tom had never felt more rage and complete fury than how he felt as he turned around to see Reedstar standing over Gingerheart's lifeless body. It took everything inside of Thrushstripe not to go back. He knew that he wouldn't have made it out alive himself if he had challenged Reedstar impulsively like that. Although, maybe death would have been sweeter at this point. He'd be with his family. All of his family members. He wouldn't have to be tortured every day for the rest of his life for decisions he hadn't made that could have saved everyone... including Gingerheart.

The more that Thrushstripe thought about it, the more he clenched his jaw and the more his claws mercilessly dug into the ground. Why was he so weak? Why couldn't he have done something to keep all of this from happening? The disease, this take-over. He couldn't even take any pride in the fact that all three clans felt the need to band together just to make sure Shadowclan was defeated. He knew one thing for sure, though. None of the clans could be forgiven. Not Thunderclan, not Windclan, and especially not Riverclan. Gatherings? That wasn't going to happen. The deputy knew he would not be able to walk into another Gathering without ripping faces off. Every single warrior in that crowd was his enemy. No mercy. Thrushstripe was going to get the camp back the first chance he could. He had to get to Gingerheart, but he also knew they had to rebuild. Everything from the ground up. He was certain nothing was left intact. The clans were going to pay for what they did today... the only issue was that Thrushstripe didn't know how.

Stormkit kicked a lose piece of moss he found around the tunnels.

Redshade perked his ears and nodded. "Alright." He huffed obediently, rushing after Cormorantpelt. As he ran, he suddenly remembered that his own kits had become six moons of age not long ago. He'd make sure to get them out here for their ceremonies. The tom glanced at Cormorantpelt as he ran, wondering if she'd be watching him to make sure he didn't pull anything from now on. He didn't really know, it just seemed likely. Whatever.

((are there any other kits here right now? Smokekit is b9red :P))

Moonpaw had followed the scent of her clan all the way to this place. She breathed in the scents, catching Redshade's but not Soulfang's. She walked towards the clan, feeling saddened.

Nightpaw was right behind Moonpaw, following her scent to the clans. He didn't know exactly where he currently was, only that it was dark, cold and near a Thunderpath.

Stormkit made sure the coast was clear before carefully makng his way out of the tunnel.