Border Skirmishes 101 (CLOSED)

It was nice to get away. Ashstar padded quietly across WindClan territory with two of her most experienced warriors, relishing the companionable silence between them. Mottleheart, her foster son, and Gustpuddle, her grandkit. The leader hadn't realized how much she needed a break until she'd gone out on patrol in place of Quailfeather, who wasn't feeling well. Doing normal warrior duties instead of dealing with the stress of being a leader even if the relief was only temporary. She fought back the thoughts of the terrifying Mist that had been haunting her and tried to let her mind be at peace. Everyone on this patrol had lost someone. Gustpuddle lost her exiled sister, Kindleblaze, who had deserved her punishment but who was still sorely missed by her family. Mottleheart had recently lost his only living daughter, Raccoonfang, to the Mist that was terrorizing the forest, and was determined to bring her back. And she, Ashstar... she had lost countless people. Parents, brother, mate, kit, apprentices, friends. But all three of them still stood strong. For their Clan. For WindClan.

As they approached the ShadowClan border, the leader's mind flooded with kithood memories of her parents and brother, as it always did when she smelled the muddy scent of pine needles and marsh grass. But her facial expression stayed the same, moons and moons of practice keeping it straight and calm, with the faintest hint of a wrinkle to her nose at the smell. No one but her and StarClan knew of her origins, and it would stay that way. She saw no cats on the other side of the Thunderpath for now, but with her luck they'd run into a patrol led by Leopardstar himself. Shaking off the thought with a half-smile, Ashstar marked the border and looked along it, trying to see if any rabbits had made burrows near the strange black strip of land.

While Mottleheart's face was a neutral mask, he was truthfully rather relieved that Ashstar had more or less pulled him out of the camp for this patrol. It was hard being around the camp even thought he tended to linger around there more then often now. It seemed so empty now that Raccoonfang was...He didn't finish that thought, almost unsure of what word to put there. He wasn't sure what to think in general about what was going on. All he knew was that he heart ached and he hated it. He had lost his only living family...

He had already lost his mother and sister without any time to know them, he had lost his father even if he had never truthfully liked the tom...He had lost one of his daughters as a kit and now had lost the other one to..Something. And he was tired of the pain and really he was tired in general but he had vowed himself to WindClan. He would carry on like always, lending his paws to the aid of his Clanmates however he could. But since Raccoonfang's disappearance, his emotions had gotten...Fuzzy. He was lost and confused...And logic just didn't seem to be the answer as what logic was there to be found in everything that was going on?

He took in a deep breath and exhaled through his nose as he mindlessly came to a halt, watching Ashstar start to patrol the edge of the border to mark it with half-interest, softly wondering how in StarClan's name Ashstar was managing to carry on while he felt like giving up following the lost of his daughter as he struggled with the idea of never seeing her again...He couldn't even have the comfort that she was in StarClan - Raccoonfang was simply...Gone. Not here but not dead...How was he suppose to swallow that fact? It just...It didn't seem fair. What had he...What had she done to deserve that fate?

Moving along through the territory with her grandmother and foster brother, nothing seemed to out of the ordinary. Of course, this pestering Mist had been bothering the clans, and many cats had suddenly gone missing, but at the moment, things seemed pretty normal. Cats were out on patrol, prey was being caught, and Queens were caring for their kits. Had there not been the wretched Mist, life would've been perfect. But, you can't always get what you want, right?

Gustpuddle had only just started going back out of camp again, and her muscles were stiff and sore from the kitting. She had now say that she had truly found out what real pain was- she had lost her kit to the same sickness that had almost killed her. Luckily, none of the other kits had died, because they were the only thing that she had left of her lost mate, Hollowfang. Boy, did she miss him something fierce. As she continued to sniff the borders and watch for prey, she barely noticed the acrid scent of the Thunderpath near her. Night was beginning to fall, and that meant Shadowclan was coming out, so she could only hope that they didn't run into a patrol looking for a fight. Gustpuddle's nose was still seemingly useless, as the smallest bit of sickness still lingered.

OOC: Mobile sucks. Sorry for such a short post.

Leopardstar prowled through the territory. He had a lot on his mind and all the time in the world to ponder it. His new kits were growing and learning, and his clan was stronger than it had been in moons, and there seemed to be peace in the forest. Of course something had to wreck it; the StarClan-forsaken mist snatched his deputy and his daughter in front of his eyes and mocked him while it did it. Just the thought of the supernatural fog made his fur bristle and his claws slide out of their sheathes. He tried to calm himself down; he didn't want Waspstep and Flamestrike, two of his trustier warriors who were along for the dusk patrol, to think something was wrong. The spotted leader stopped as he saw a group of three across the border in the distance, his eyes narrowing. He stayed in the shadows of the territory so he could watch them without being observed and signaled for the other toms to do so as well.

If there was one thing Flamestrike was exceptionally good at, it was tracking. His nose was far better than he would admit. The scent of Windclan cats hit him like a monster as they neared the border. His fur prickled uncomfortably. Personally, the flame colored tom typically had nothing against other clan cats unless they were causing problems for Shadowclan. Since they were so close, his fur began to bristle uncomfortable. A low growl rumbled in his throat. Leopardstar stopped and motioned for him to do the same. He stopped behind the spotted leader with his eyes still trained on the other clan's patrol. Last time he had a run in with another patrol, it had quickly dissolved into a border skirmish. Tensions were high now, too.

He waited patiently for the leader's command. For now it appeared they were just hiding in the shadows, watching. Flamestrike had no problem with that. After a while, it seemed the frustration between himself and Leopardstar had dissipated as they both became fathers and worked together to keep things running smoothly in the clan. Part of him would always miss his brother's son, but life had to move on past that. Barkpaw seemed to be doing well in Thunderclan anyways. At least he was on a different path than his senseless father. The warrior waved his tail as he stared on silently, pushing away the thoughts to focus on enemy cats, and waiting for something to happen.

Waspstep followed silently behind Leopardstar, the brown warrior hadn't been too effected by the mist. Yeah sure it had taken clan mates but it hadn't taken anyone close to him. Blazeflight was fine, so was Honeydrop. While it had taken his sister, Foxheart, the two of them didn't exactly get along. It was a bit of a relief not having to deal with aggressive sister, but he still wanted her back.

Brown eyes looked up when the others slowed down. Leopardstar silently telling them to stay hidden. Waspstep did as he was told, scenting the windclan cats not too far from where they were. Waspstep's lips drew back in a silent snarl. What were they doing here? The brown warrior waited, his claws ready to tear into those warriors if needed. He didn't want to be here, but at the same time he was serving his leader, and that was important.

Ashstar was checking the border quietly, not paying much attention to her surroundings, when the marshy smell of ShadowClan seemed to grow stronger, as if their warriors were approaching. Her head bolted up out of practice, ears pricked for any new sounds, nose trying to catch any hint of a scent she recognized. But all she smelled was the mud and pine needles on the other side of the Thunderpath. She must have been imagining things. This Mist had them all on edge lately, if she was to be honest with herself. Continuing to walk along the border, senses still prickling faintly with a sense of unease, the leader tried to keep her focus on the task at hand. Marking and patrolling the border, then maybe going off to hunt later. Right. She needed to keep it together.

But as she concentrated on the border itself, trying to find any hint of trespassing- StarClan knew the last thing she needed these days was enmity with another Clan- her paw hit a slippery rock, half-buried under the dirt below. Her balance lost, the gray-furred she-cat tripped, flying into the air for about a half-second before smashing onto the hard black material of the Thunderpath. Onto ShadowClan territory. Ashstar's old bones creaked as she lay on the strong-smelling ground, trying to get up and save face in front of her warriors. Her pelt burned with shame. How mouse-brained am I, to not pay attention to where I was going? As she lay there, she couldn't help but notice a couple of rabbit dens on the other side of the path. She shook off the thought. They were on a border patrol not a hunting patrol. She could get prey later. Completely forgetting that she had accidentally crossed the border, the WindClan leader managed to hoist herself up onto her feet and back across to where Mottleheart and Gustpuddle waited, shaking out her fur self-consciously. "I'm fine."