Departed Way [Open]

OOC: This directly follows Esquisse of Violence.

IC: There was barely a sound other than the slightly labored breathing from Foxfire as he led his Clan into the camp, dragging with him the still body of a newly named Beanheart. His body ached, fresh wounds still bleeding but he forced himself to carry the apprentice back - heart shattered at the outcome of the war. He...He thought they won, they had ShadowClan outnumbered and if Thornstar hadn't...If she hadn't killed Beanheart, then the winner would have been much clearer. It certainly didn't feel like they had won...

He sighed as he dropped Beanheart's body into the camp, letting out a mournful cry to stir awake the cats who perhaps laid sleeping. The night had fallen, the cool air feeling ice-cold with the recent losses. He paused, swallowing as he glanced over his shoulder. He wasn't sure who had grabbed Leaftwirl's body - he hadn't the heart to check until now. Basilpaw...Oh Bug, her mother was at least safe as a rogue. But no, Leaftwirl had come back and given her life for SkyClan. A war that she should have had no part in with her new found freedom. He sank into a sitting position, hanging his head as he waited for his Clan to gather to explain the outcome of the battle.

Since the rest of the clan had left to fight, leaving Wolfcall behind to guard the camp, the young warrior had been pacing almost non-stop, part of him wishing that he'd been chosen to go, and the other part glad he'd been ordered to stay behind, instead. He knew the war was an inevitability, that things had to come to a head, one way or the other, but he didn't want to fight, he didn't want anyone to fight.

But they'd gone, and it had been so long that every minute seemed like a day, and every hour seemed like an entire moon. Each passing second that went without the return of SkyClan's warriors was agony for Wolfcall, and he was nearly mad with worry by the time, finally, there was movement at the entrance of the camp.

Foxfire. Relief surged through him, and Wolfcall took a step forward to greet his ex mentor, but the smell of sorrow and blood and death followed the deputy into the camp, and the dark warrior froze, eyes searching... and landing on Beanpaw... no... Beanpaw's lifeless body. The wail that came from the deputy then was unearthly, and Wolfpaw fell to his haunches, unable to bring himself to move any further. But the grief that filled him from toe to tail stood no chance against the only other emotion that he could manage at the moment: hope. And amber eyes flickered behind Foxfire, behind Basilpaw, anxiously, desperately hoping that his father's spotted pelt would appear there, too.

Deerpaw had been curled up with his siblings when he heard his mentor's wail. Deerpaw got up to his paws and ran over to Foxfire. To see the most horrifying sight. Beanpaw another apprentice was dead. "Wha- Who did this? Who ever did this to Beanpaw must be evil!" Deerpaw questioned. Who would kill another cat? Especilly an apprentice?!

Basilpaw had hung back with the other apprentices, anxiously awaiting the return of her clan. There hadn't been an actual war planned, no, it shouldn't have taken this long. Although she wasn't one to have much of a troubled mind, as the night dragged on, worry caused her mind to wander to the confrontation between clans more than once. She had known of the growing tensions between Shadowclan and Skyclan but in her newfound friendship with one of their warriors, found a kittish hope that perhaps there wouldn't be any more wounds inflicted or bodies on either side. Maybe Flintshard was there, bestowing his words of wisdom upon the warriors with raised hackles and leaders who sought a relentless justice. But she tried not to think about it too much, simply clinging to the knowledge that soon Foxfire would be home.

Her best friend's wounds had healed in a surprisingly quick manner given how severe they were. Even if the deputy did not think it, he was strong in all of the best ways a warrior could be. On the battlefield, he no doubt would have held his own if it came to it. Right? It was different to fight by the sides of your clanmates instead of being jumped on a solo patrol. Squeezing her green gaze shut, the little she-cat willed herself to cling to the infinite hope that she had been born with. Admittedly, with the loss of her mother wondering out into the larger world, that had been hard. As much of a free-spirit as the gray and tan-coated apprentice was, the bond between mother and kit was not something easily severed. She would never forget Leaftwirl and often considered going on a brief journey simply to speak with the tabby loner once more. They had so many things to talk about. The former queen would of course have the best wisdom to speak into her kit.

As she tucked some stray tendrils of moss into one of the nursery nest, Basilpaw's paws hardly shook. She had a certainty about here soul that seemed to ground her even in confusing times. It helped to make her so resilient and preserved the quiet joy of her soul. Once she had chattered on like a kit, now, she would still linger in conversation, but with a gentler nature. Perhaps that was how Foxfire had managed to keep his ears all these moons and they hadn't fallen off yet. Even while he was recovering in the medicine cat's den, she would visit and tell him of all the things that had happened throughout the day. Their friendship was the most wonderful thing she had known in her few moons of life. For as long as she could remember, through all the changes, the russet tom had been there. She had always looked up to him and that had never once wavered. It was for this reason, the moment the deputy stepped into camp, she looked up from her task and bounded from the nursery.

Without hesitation, Basilpaw joined his side. Her eyes took note of the wounds, the metallic tang of blood, but now she simply sought out his companionship. After such a long night, the apprentice simply longed for the warmth of her friend and was grateful for his arrival. Even if it was in a bedraggled state. His head hung low and she knew there was plenty that hung over his scarred shoulders. Before she could ask, her gaze rested on the limp pelt she had somehow failed to notice before. It was Beanpaw. Her and the other tom had shared a den for as long as she had trained. And now the breath no longer lit his frame with life. Basilpaw dipped her head ever so slightly. Her tongue itched to find the right words to say to comfort Foxfire but nothing seemed right so she simply nuzzled into the space underneath his chin like she had done so many times before. Usually, it was a greeting, but now, it was an understanding. Basilpaw just wanted him to know she was here.

Setting Leaftwirl down in the clearing as the battered and bruised war party returned to camp, Sunflower plopped his rump down beside his deceased mate. His sides burned and the blood from his wounds was already beginning to crust over, and with his head hung low, tears starting to drip from his eyes once again, his breathes had grown noticeably raspy. He knew he'd be fine, but dragging Leaftwirl back from the Highpine to camp had taken the breath out of him and he was revealed that they were finally home, though such a victory wasn't something that SkyClan would be celebrating. They'd been victorious against ShadowClan, but glancing around the clearing, it certainly didn't look like they'd won.

Both Leafttwirl and the Beanheart had lost their lives over ShadowClan's mousebrained rage... over a battle that shouldn't have even happened. He still didn't understand why his former mate had returned at such a horrible time, and quite frankly, he didn't know what to think or feel. His heart was filled with sorrow, but a kindle of anger also began to burn. Why had she come back, just so she could redeem herself? She wouldn't have had to do such a thing if she'd just stayed in SkyClan... but whatever the reason was, he knew that she finally found her happiness, though he personally wished that she'd thought about all of the despondency that she was causing her former clanmates...

~~~~~

Hobbling out of the elder's den, Tinylegs' baby-blue gaze scanned the clearing. It seemed as though everyone who'd joined the battle patrol had come back with all their paws in tact, but a certain pelt caught his attention. Leaftwirl, who'd abandoned SkyClan not too long ago laid beneath his son's paws. He knew that her leaving had been extremely hard on Sunflower, seeing as though she was one of the only cats that he could lean on, and her sudden appearance that resulted in her death wasn't something the warrior would be able to get over easy.

Padding up to the lanky tom who was now sobbing over such a loss, the stumpy legged elder pressed his muzzle against his son's side in hopes of supplying some form of comfort. "I'm so sorry Sunflower," he mewed softly. He himself had found himself somewhat indifferent at Leaftwirl's disappearance and disloyalty to her family and clan, but even so, that didn't mean that he couldn't be there for Sunflower and the others that would mourn the she-cat.

Foxfire's gaze flickered up sightly at the familiar pelts of his apprentices, gazing sadly but yet he was...Relieved, that they hadn't been brought along. He...He didn't want to picture any of them in the same place as Beanheart or Leaftwirl. Speaking of her...His heart sank as Basilpaw came silently padding up, doing her best to comfort him and while he wanted to pull away from her touch - not in the mood for it...He spared his glance over his shoulder to where Sunflower had dropped his mate's body, Tinylegs having approached to comfort his son. "I'm...I'm so sorry, Basilpaw," he gulped, closing his eyes as a shaky exhale escaped him.

"And...And its Beanheart now. S-Spottedstar...Spottedstar gave him his warrior name after...He...He was killed by Thornstar. I-I don't thinks she meant to, she...She looked horrified that she..." he gritted his teeth as he shook his head. "...I...I think we won, in the end. Not that it..." slowly he found himself lowering himself to the ground, his body shaking as the shock started to wear off and all he could feel was grief. Grief over what had happened, that he had been unable to stop his Clanmates from dying. That...They never should have fought in the first place. "I-I'm so sorry, Bug..." he murmured again, pressing himself against for for a second before he ushered her in the direction of her father, knowing that the family ought to mourn together.

...And perhaps he wanted to be alone in his grief, his body heavy with the terrible thoughts that it was all his fault.

Deerpaw stared as he found out who killed Beanheart. Thornstar. And not too far away was a cat he didn't recognize. But she clearly fought for Skyclan. "Well Thornstar should feel terrible. She did something that'll land her in the Dark Forest." Deerpaw muttered out.

Deerpaw didn't know how to feel. Sad. Pained. Scared. Sympathetic. Mad. Deerpaw felt one of those emotions. And it was mad.

Flowerthorn had followed close behind Foxfire all the way home. The pale she-cat not even bothering to fall a step behind the tom. She stuck close in case there was any lingering Shadowclan cats ready to ambush them in their own territory. Her eyes remained on the ground, her dull blue gaze only looking up every moment or so to make sure Foxfire was still okay to bring Beanheart home.

As soon as her brown and white paws crossed the threshold into the camp the warrior paused. Her gaze lifting from the ground as she looked around. Cats quick to gathering by the deputy and the dead cats. Her body and tail completely still as she just watched for a moment. Basilpaw was instantly at Foxfire's side. The apprentice pressing into his flank. Deerpaw cursing Thornstar.. Tinylegs morning with Sunflower.. Her ears that were once perked fell flat to her head. Her eyes narrowing slightly.

She turned away from the center of camp. Her gaze falling to the ground, ears still folded back. The pale she-cat slightly stalked away from the gathering group. She didn't want to deal with all of them. She didn't want to deal with all of this. She didn't really feel anything for the two dead cats, so it wasn't fair that she would be around everyone. Silently she slipped into a back corner of the camp, and settled down. Her eyes remaining on the group in case she was needed to help. In case Shadowclan followed them home..

I'm... I'm so sorry, Basilpaw.

When he spoke, the she-cat glanced up. She noticed the way he glanced over his shoulder and swallowed. While the loss of a clanmate was a great thing, her and Beanpaw... Beanheart, had never been close. His words meant something else. A creeping sensation came over the she-cat. Something had been lost this battle, something that could not be replaced for the apprentice. Basilpaw turned, expecting to see the stiffened limbs of her long-legged father. But instead, his frame was hunched over, wracked with sobs. The last cat that she had expected to see now lay there still as a tree on a windless night. A feeling stuck in her throat as she stared at the body of Leaftwirl. It was the last thing she had thought would lay not moving in the center of camp. Her pelt bore signs of battle, marred with blood that could have only been her own. The way the mortality of a mother shattered kit-like innocence was stunning; the very thing that had conceived her and brought her into the world no longer had a place in the tangible world. In that instant, she found her mind whirling like it never had before. All Basilpaw could to for a moment was stare at the scene before her. Pressing further into Foxfire's coat for comfort was little more than a fleeting thought in her mind.

Both her father and grandfather were there, leaning into each other for comfort over the loss. It was obvious that Sunflower felt more at the loss than Tinystar. The former Skyclan had been one of the few that could bear the cowardice of the lanky creature. Peering at the scene, she found it quite curious. In her short life, Leaftwirl had danced away as easily as the name that she bore in pursuit of some greater thing that she believed Skyclan could never offer. Basilpaw hadn't understood. She had wanted to journey on that great adventure as well, reveling in the presence of a cat she loved. And yet, leaving behind everyone else was a cost that she had not been prepared for. Conflicted youth had rooted her paws here. And Leaftwirl had returned. There would be no jaunt into the beyond to seek out a chat. No words would be exchanged between mother and daughter again. That very thought was running through her head when the deputy muttered once more, drawing near and then pulling back and directing her towards the scene. Basilpaw didn't want to break it. Her and Sunflower had never spent much time together, even if she did try and loved him no matter what. Tinystar had seldom exchanged a word with her.

But her mother was there. Underneath the scarlet mask, there was the beautiful tabby pelt that she had found solace in so many times. To refuse a final moment with the she-cat was impossible. Shaky steps were quickly steadied as she padded the short distance and came to a stop over the body of Leaftwirl. Green eyes were wide. Once again, she merely stared for a long moment, blinking once slowly and finding herself unable to look away. Dipping her head, her maw was pressed into the bedraggled coat and with a slow inhale she drew in the familiar scent one final time before glancing up to look at Sunflower, "She looks much happier this way. Doesn't she?" With that sentiment, Basilpaw pulled away, unable to find anymore mourning within her at this time. The answers she found were in the expression of her now deceased dam. What she had been unable to decipher in her youth was now evident. Leaftwirl had sought answers, answers which had been found in her final moments. And that was good enough for Basilpaw.

The battle was certainly a sight to behold. He didn't participate in the fighting, being privileged enough to hang back and watch for when he was needed, but it still left him exhausted. It was a stark reminder of why he was now a medicine cat. While he could defend himself if he had to, he was not made for fighting. His poor vision and poor hearing would just leave him disoriented on the battlefield amid a wash of blurred shapes and loud noises he couldn't decipher. The smell of blood stung his nose, taking over any other scents. Two cats had been lost on this bloody day and he couldn't save them. Brave Leaftwirl, who had returned from the forest, and young Beanheart, with so much potential left...

His first battle, and he had failed miserably. Shame burned through his pelt like a wildfire as angry thoughts rattled around in his aching head. What kind of a medicine cat are you? It had been too disorienting, too confusing, he couldn't make out any one cat or hear any clear calls for help, and in his failure, they had lost two. Two. If I had done my job correctly, we would have lost none, Sagelight thought bitterly, plodding along near the back of the returning SkyClanners as they came into camp. Foxfire was carrying Beanheart's body and poor Sunflower was carrying Leaftwirl. With a heavy sigh, the young medicine cat picked up the pace once they got into camp. At the very least, he could help anyone that needed it now, in the still and quiet camp where he could work without distraction.

He trotted into the medicine cat's den and began pulling out poppy seeds, cobwebs, oak leaves, goldenrod, anything that would be helpful for treating battle wounds. With all his supplies laid out neatly on the floor of his den, he stepped back out into camp. The mourning process had begun. Noticing Sunflower first, he approached the distraught warrior and laid a comforting tail across his back. He bent down and touched his nose to Leaftwirl's body. "StarClan welcomes you." he murmured, only for her ears to hear. Then turning back to Sunflower, he gave him a sympathetic look, genuine sadness, and mewed, "She will be missed, I'm sure. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to come to my den, okay? I'm here for you." Sagelight smiled softly, then moved on. He repeated the process with Beanheart's body, feeling the pang of shame resurface once more. But he had time to dwell on his mistakes later. For now, the Clan needed him.

Sagelight moved into the center of camp and raised his head, his voice clear. His naturally loud voice came in handy in times like these. "SkyClan has suffered a heavy loss today, one that will not be forgotten. StarClan receives them with open paws. They are safe now, and I'm sure we will see them again someday. I also want to apologize. To all of you. I did not do a good job doing my job out there...I am open to any criticism you may have of me. I deserve it. But for now...My den is open to all. If any cat needs anything at all, come to me. Also, I took the time to stock up on herbs before the battle, so I have enough to treat everyone's wounds." He paused, then laughed in spite of himself. "Sorry everyone, I'm not the best at giving speeches! Please, if you need something treated, my den is open." With that final statement, he padded back into his den to wait for his patients.

Juniperpaw stirred restlessly in the apprentices' den with his fellow apprentices, eagerly awaiting the return of his father and the small patrol that left with him. He didn't quite grasp the full extent of what war with ShadowClan could mean. He only knew that something unusual was happening and that Spottedstar would have news when he returned. He tore bits of his moss nest with his claws as he practiced patience.

When the deputy's cry reached his ears, the small black tom hurried out of the den alongside Deerpaw and Basilpaw. He slowed at the sight of the lifeless bodies: one a former denmate, the other a missing queen. Both were unnaturally still, unseeing, rigid beneath the gazes of their clanmates. Juniperpaw didn't understand. He'd never seen a cat's death before. He looked up, hoping to find Firflower or maybe Murkpelt. Failing in his task, his eyes settled on Wolfcall. His eldest brother was also looking for someone, and Juniperpaw realized quickly who it was. The small tom settled next to the warrior, black pelts brushing, and he looked up at Wolfcall with pale golden eyes full of confusion.

The leader pushed through the foliage of the camp entrance. His fur was soaked, freshly washed in the moonlit stream. Spottedstar had taken a short detour to wash the excessive blood from his coat despite the frigid waters and bitter late leaf-fall air. Now the only blood that coated him was his own, welling up again at the cuts along his stomach and marking his head at various lengths and depths. A cut at his mouth bled most freely, a constant reminder of the poisonous words he had traded with Thornstar however briefly.

Spottedstar surveyed the moonlit camp, full of mourning and sorrow as well as leftover blood dripping from his warriors. This wasn't how they were supposed to return. Win or lose, only the leader himself was supposed to feel the sting of claws that night. A sharp sense of failure dogged the leader as he stalked through camp, past his worried sons, and scaled the Tallbranch. If the clan hadn't come together at Foxfire's wail or Sagelight's call, Spottedstar would give them a reason to appear now.

"Let all cats old enough to climb a tree gather beneath the Tallbranch for a Clan meeting!"

There would be comfort for his family later... hopefully. The disgust of his own actions after the battle still sifted within him.

Foxfire sat curled, gaze staring unfocused at the still body of Beanheart. His ears twitched as he heard Sagelight speak up, trying to give words of encouragement and requesting that the injured cats visited him. The deputy sighed softly, starting to push himself up to lumber over there when a new sound of pawsteps caught his ear. He glanced up to see Spottedstar padding in, his pelt dripping water along with blood - having apparently stopped to clean himself up. The deputy automatically dipped his head in greetings, watching as the leader walked past without a word and leapt onto the Tallbranch, calling for a meeting. He...Supposed he could wait to get patched up until after this meeting, silently padding forward as he took his spot at the base of the trunk. He allowed his gaze to scan across the gathered cats for a few heartbeats, before he settled to staring at his own paws as he waited for Spottedstar to speak.

Wolfcall hadn't noticed he'd been holding his breath until he felt a touch at his side and exhaled in surprise, glancing down to see Juniperpaw's bewildered eyes staring up at him. The warrior softened, flicking his tail over his brother's haunches and softly telling him "it's okay," though both the gesture and the words were just as much for himself as they were for the Juniperpaw. He realized then that the apprentice didn't understand what had happened - something he hadn't even considered until now. Why would Juniperpaw know death?

He dropped his gaze away, struggling for words. How was he supposed to explain the finality of death to an apprentice barely out of the nursery? How could he justify the fact that those cats would be cold and still forever because of a grudge that ShadowClan just couldn't let go? Wolfcall blazed with anger and disgust, a bitter taste in his mouth. And despite the fact that ShadowClan had caused this, despite the fact that his clanmates were dead because of them, Wolfcall couldn't bring himself to wish that there were just as many ShadowClan cats dead, too. Because he didn't want to wish this pain, the pain that was so obvious in Foxfire and Basilpaw and Sunflower and Deerpaw.... he didn't want to wish that pain and loss on any cat.

"Juniperpaw, I..." he started, determined to make his brother understand in as gentle a way as possible, but his explanation was disturbed by the sudden appearance of Spottedstar at the camp entrance. Wolfcall sagged in relief, then started to rise, but stopped as his father leaped on to the Tallbranch and called a clan meeting. He licked Juniperpaw comfortingly between the ears and turned his gaze up to the leader, waiting.

Amberpaw was one of the last to come. They were all talking and mumbling, at first she had come for the meeting but at the corner of her eyes she saw a familiar brown pelt. She looked over that way and felt a purr rising- but it suddenly stopped as she further examined her mother. She felt a rock in her chest, she tried to swallow but it wouldn't go down, she saw Basilpaw but looked back to her mother. She never spent much time with Amberpaw, but, but... She was her mother, her eyes wide, breaths quick and panicked, she ran. "She isn't?..." She mewed, already knowing the answer. "Basilpaw?" She looked over. "Who did this?" She demanded. And suddenly all the times she was trying to stay happy disappeared. "Wh-Who did this!?" She cried. "Who saw this happen and didn't stop it!?" Amberpaw didn't know what to think, her head hurt. "Wh-who..." Her voice trailed off as she sat down next to her mother, now cold. She would be focused on the meeting but she wasn't in the mood. She sniffed and her head went into her paws, "I didn't know her well enough!" She whimpered. Her tail was fluffed up and she pressed closer to the ground.

Seeing both of his kits in such a distressed state hurt his heart like a thorn in his pawpad. They didn't deserve to loose their mother, not at such a young age... not like this anyway. Placing his long tail on Amberpaw's back, the lanky tom opened his jaws to try and comfort her, but before he was able to do so, Spottedstar called together a clan meeting, and as if rehearsed, all eyes were on the leader above.

Sitting down beside his kits, dead mate, and father, the group of tree climbers turned their attention to Spottedstar, wondering what he could possibly say to make any of what happened better.