The Sky is Falling [SITEWIDE PLOT]

The chilling winds of Leaf-Fall whipped across the recovering lands of Skyclan, stirring up the ash-smoke still present even while new growth pushed it’s way through the remains of the forest’s desolation. With the lack of leafy trees and only sparse bushes to combat the winds, the temperature in Skyclan territory dropped considerably this night. The ash-smoke rolled across the ground like a carpet of living fog, creeping ever closer towards the Skyclan camp like the breath of an angry deity. The warriors, apprentices and elders huddled together closely for shared warmth as the coming Leaf-Bare’s claw-tips made it’s intentions for the future known. As the cats of Skyclan hugged their bodies closer together, their focus was entirely on keeping themselves and each other warm, waiting for the sun to rise and banish the frigid night away.

They were not able to focus on their surroundings enough to hear or smell the approaching invasion.

Dawnhawk approached the Leader’s Den where Bloodstrike had temporarily taken residence while Wolfstar was out on his scouting mission for Juniperlight. The pale tom’s fur was practically glowing from the intensity of the full moon above him as the ash-smoke swirled around his feet like an ectoplasm.

“Bloodstrike,” The words came from Dawnhawk’s mouth, but the voice hardly sounded like his son’s. The freezing winds whipping about outside were less cold than his tone. The deputy stood and approached the mouth of the Leader’s Den, concerned. “The One-Eared fox is here. He’s waiting for you.” Dawnhawk finished. A shiver ran down the deputy’s spine. Something was wrong… Very wrong. Bloodstrike stepped out and crouched, prepared for battle… but his eyes only saw the skin of a one-eared fox wrought upon the chilled forest floor. It’s eyes were hollowed out and the claw-mark scarred pelt itself was in a careless, crumpled pile. Porcupine quills stuck out of it all along the back of it’s head down to the middle of it’s back like elongated hackles on a dog. Fangs from other animals protruded out from around it’s face and above it’s empty eye holes.

Bloodstrike approached it, trying to make sense of what had happened to the beast. His confused, distracted state did not allow him to notice shadows slipping into the warrior den, the apprentice den, the elder den, the medicine den or the nurseries. It had happened with a chilling swiftness while Dawnhawk crept behind his own father and readied a fighting stance. A flick of his golden tail in the gleaming moonlight and the signal was sent.

Shadows lurched forth from all around Bloodstrike with a sudden swiftness. The shadows devoured the dark tabby tom as claws and teeth were pressed against his neck, his flank and his belly. At the same time, all of the members of Skyclan felt claws and teeth threatening their vitals as well. Cats of an unknown origin had infiltrated the Skyclan camp. Bloodstrike was still for the moment, his eyes wide with shock and confusion and still had no knowledge of the enemies within the rest of the camp. His green eyes went straight to Dawnhawk, who was still just standing there, battle-ready.

“Dawnhawk… what is this?” Bloodstrike’s eyes had darkened considerably and his muscles tensed, ready for the fight that he knew was to come.

“This is for the good of Skyclan,” Dawnhawk answered simply. “The entire clan is under tooth and claw. It would be wise of you to not retaliate. Someone could get hurt.” There was a pause as Dawnhawk watched Bloodstrike’s reaction. His father did exactly what he thought he was going to do: His ears plastered back against his head and a growl rumbled in the pit of Bloodstrike’s chest. The widening of his pupils told Dawnhawk all he needed to know. Bloodstrike wasn’t afraid to die and would fight until he did.

“At least hear what they have to say! Do you think I would destroy my own clan and hurt my family?” Dawnhawk’s words cut through the tension in the air. For the moment, Bloodstrike’s growling stopped and one ear rose just a hair off of his head. He would cooperate… for now. That was good enough. Dawnhawk’s eyes went to the calico cat that was blocked from Bloodstrike’s view since he was on the ground and pinned.

“Wolfstar is the leader of Skyclan, but he went scouting for another member of ours, Juniperlight. Bloodstrike is the deputy, he will act as leader until Wolfstar returns. Do you want to talk to him now or wait for Wolfstar?” He asked, his voice still as cold as any leaf-bare ever could have been.

Dawnhawk had proven himself to be an invaluable addition to Asylum. This was merely the crux of their union. Iniko followed after the tom but held back as the warrior confronted his father. Feathery tail flickered back and forth in wait. Despite having already secured Shadowclan camp that morning, the calico tom felt little exhaustion weighing at his step. In fact, he felt no different than padding through the forest on a pleasant day. One of the tom’s core traits was his abnormally calm composure that he seemed to maintain regardless of any circumstances. What was another take over to one as seasoned as he?

One ear flickered at the sound of Dawnhawk’s voice. Iniko nodded in his direction and padded forward the short distance, “There is no time to wait. The forest falls tonight. But his cooperation is up to him, and the clan. I value their lives as much as they do but I can’t say the same for the rest of the Nightstriker’s outside of the camp walls.” He stared at Bloodstrike, dipping his head slightly. While there was momentary appreciation for the cooperation, such things were never guaranteed in moments like this. It felt strange, staring back into the features of one of the first forest cats he had met. There had been determination in the dark warrior, ambition, and fight. But Iniko wasn’t certain such things would be devoted to Asylum. That would be something to judge later. For now, there was business to attend to.

“It’s good to see you again, Bloodstrike. This is merely a precaution. I hope we can step away from such carnal desires as ripping throats out and get this over with… Skyclan is now under the rule of Asylum. Your warriors, like yourself, have been pinned. Countless more of our cats wait just beyond the walls and throughout the territory. There is no winning here, unless you join us. This empire of ours expands well over the horizon and we’d like Skyclan to be a part of it. Whether or not this is an easy process is up to you.” Deep pools of green light met the other tom’s gaze. The words hung heavy in the air. Iniko found himself longing for an easy transition, to let this slip into the paws of Dawnhawk so he could return to Shadowclan. But he was not such an easily swayed creature when it came to his position.

Even when his thoughts were clouded with visions of Tanglerose.

ooc; Skyclan has fallen... for more details click here

Sharp claws against his throat woke Tigersong.

The young warrior opened his eyes, blinking tiredly and confusedly up at the cat that practically straddled him. He was no stranger to being stepped over, or even on, as cats made their way around the warriors' den, but the main problem here was, Tigersong didn't know this cat. For a moment he just stared, unmoving, unblinking... but as more unfamiliar shapes materialized at the edges of his vision, the ginger warrior couldn't help but feel tendrils of dread wrap around his heart.

Perhaps it was the threat of imminent death, perhaps it was his own unbidden curiosity about what was happening, but Tigersong didn't protest or retaliate as the strange cats rounded up the clan. Some SkyClanners hissed or growled, some, like him, simply watched in an unrestrained horror that he so far had managed to conceal. But the moment they were herded into the open camp by the strange cats that seemed to multiply from the very shadows themselves, Tigersong's eyes landed on a crumpled, scarred heap near Dawnhawk's paws.

One-ear. The fox that Bloodstrike had named, the one that had killed Sagelight, and Dustpaw. The one that had ripped Swansong away from him and murdered her in cold blood. The stony expression that he'd worn since opening his eyes now wavered, and rage glimmered there within the shining, multicolored orbs. A low growl vibrated in his chest, fixated on that russet pelt, and then lifted to slide between Dawnhawk and Bloodstrike, who seemed to be in some sort of disagreement. The ginger tom's tail lashed once, and then stilled as he searched the deputy's expression for some type of order or explanation.

Foxfire wasn't even in the warrior's den - he had taken to sleeping in the nursery, refusing to sleep even just a den away from Flowerthorn. In part, it was because he had promised to not leave her side if he could help it...But also, with the disappearance of Spottedstar...He needed the comfort and to make sure he knew where she was. Which was why, being awoken by teeth in his scruff and being yanked away from his mate. "Wha- Flowertho-!" His eyes widened as he tried to make sense of what was happening, feeling himself hit the ground before claws to his throat cut him off as he tried to call for his mate. For a second, his muscles bunched as he got ready to try to fight back but other shapes caught his eye - more intruders, all ready to strike at the queens and kits. And so slowly, he relaxed. Maybe he could take on one but he couldn't garter the safety of Flowerthorn, the others...The kits. His ears perked as he heard sound of voices - Dawnhawk, a voice he didn't know.

What...What was happening?

Great StarClan, Sunflower had the worst timing of any cat that was for sure.

Having been awoken by the panicked mews of his clanmates, the lengthy and large eared tom failed to realize that there were some strange voices mixed in, but the sight of unusual figures entering the den sent his heart racing. Fortunately for him, he'd decided to hide under his tattered sky-pelt that night and being in the back of the den it didn't seem as though any-cat noticed him. Maybe if he stood still long enough, they would leave him be? No, they'd most certainly find him, which left only one other option.

Waiting for a moment when the cats seemed to stop entering the den, he crept along the den's shadows. So far so good... except for the fact that he'd failed to noticed the cat standing outside the den, most likely waiting for some-cat like him to get loose and put a stop to their escape.

Bumpking into some-cat's rear, he looked down to see viscous eyes gleaming back up at him. Heart racing and legs shaking uncontrollably, he hastily shuffled backwards, half scooting his rump along the ground as he retreated back into the warrior's. Who in Silverpelt's name was that and why were they here? Before he was able to do or say anything, some-cat's paws were slammed down on his throat, which punched out a huff of air from his lungs. Was this it? Was this where he would die? Surely it was...

The bumping noises woke Willowdance up. No, not the fact that someone had started pinning her. She was somehow still asleep then.

Looking up, the first thing Willowdance saw made her heart jump into her throat. "SUNFLOWER!" She shrieked, probably loud enough to wake any Warrior still asleep by this point. Completely unaware of the fact that whoever was pinning her down was much stronger, she began wriggling frantically. "LET HIM GO!" She yelled at the cat holding Sunflower down.

It was probably a good thing Willowdance's eyes were locked on Sunflower. If she saw that all other cats were also being held down, she would probably yell the clan down and then burst into tears.

Willowdance hadn't heard anything about surrendering. Turning around, she bit hard at the cat holding her down and attempted to force herself free. Tears pricked at her eyes.

Smokefeather had gone to her nest the night before exhausted, and at first the claws poking into her side could've easily been a clanmate trying to roughly wake her. Still in the twilight of half-sleep, eyes closed, it took a moment for the unfamiliar scents to register. Her eyes opened to unfamiliar faces, and Smokefeather let out a hiss. Still groggy and confused, it took little effort for the cat above her to press unsheathed claws into her throat, and Smokefeather forced herself to remain still. She couldn't help her clan with... whatever this situation was if she was dead.

Gray-green eyes darted around the den, the exhausted she-cat too tired to truly panic, but her senses were now quickly returning to her with each waking moment. Her fur fluffed and she attempted to shift her weight as she spotted her clanmates in similar positions to the one she had found herself in, but the claws pinned her and more claws brushed over her soft belly fur. The threat was enough to make her still once more.

The cats pinning Smokefeather stepped back, and Smokefeather remained still, heartbeat rapid as she fought the urge to turn on them with claws unsheathed. She wasn't stupid, there were too many of them for her to take. A rough paw prodding her in the side was enough to get the she-cat to her feet, stubmling toward the den entrance just as Tigersong was doing.

The sight in the clearing was enough to make her stop in her tracks. Bloodstrike, surrounded. Dawnhawk, seemingly not surrounded, and still more of the strangers lurking everywhere in the camp. And... The russet pelt of a fox, scarred frame still familiar even under the... decorations that had been added to it. One-Ear. Gray-green eyes flicked between her mate, her son and the fox, silently questioning. The words coming from the strange calico buzzing against her ears. So they were truly outnumbered, then.

---

Nighthawk had been curled alongside her mate, peacefully sleeping and blissfully unaware of what was going on around them until it was far too late. Even her light sleeping habits had been exhausted, and it took the elder much longer than it should have to react to the presence of the unknown beings in their den. Amber eyes wide and fur fluffed with alarm, her gaze swept over the strangers. They were outnumbered, that much was clear. Still, her claws unsheathed as she eyed the strangers, a low growl reverberating in her throat.

---

At the first brush of something against her neck, Beechface jerked awake with a snarl, eyes wide. Her clanmates would never wake her in such a fashion, especially not the sleeping form of Primroselight, even if her shoulder and foreleg hadn't been bound with cobwebs and sticks and smelling of juniper and ragwort.

The... thing standing over Beechface did not smell of Skyclan, much less of any clan she knew. Instinctively, the warrior-apprentice-turned-medicine-cat lashed out, claws and teeth aiming for the creature's face furiously. Her long fur was standing on end, making her massive frame appear even larger. Whatever the thing standing over her was, it could not be allowed to harm the injured clanmate in her den. Adrenaline and fury were interesting things, bringing forth a burst of energy she wouldn't normally have when being woken from sleep.

The creature that had awoken her so rudely quickly fell, only to be replaced by five more. Beechface struggled, clawing furiously at her attackers, but with the overwhelming numbers it didn't take long for her to be pinned against the stone floor of the den, chest heaving, face contorted in fury. The new occupants invading the Skyclan den hadn't expected her to put up a fight, and all five now pinned her, claws and teeth a hair's-breadth away from her throat, her stomach, other vitals.

Three more figures crept into the den, taking up position around the den's only other Skyclan occupant. A low, threatening growl escaped Beechface.

"Do. Not. Touch. Her." She gritted out. Beechface sounded out of breath already. She'd tried to keep up sparring with her clanmates even after being named a medicine cat, but without the regularity of the other warriors her body wasn't in the shape it could have been in.

The warrior's eyes flitted open, finding the gaze of the creature that pinned him down. There was hardly any cat scent to be picked apart from the beat. It looked and breathed like a real predator, with deadened eyes the spoke of the life once stripped away. Regardless, teeth were bared at his throat. Wrenspring itched to buck and writhe underneath the pin of his opponent but something seemed to be holding back the onslaught. Something that Willowdance's flailing and Sunflower's exit seemed more likely to bring about. He swallowed as he tipped his head to try to look into the clearing.

From where he slept, it was difficult to get much of anything without shifting from underneath pinning paws. Thoughts of Beechface and Graypaw raced through his head. Immediately, he sent up a silent prayer to Starclan that both would be kept safe. Beechface was Starclan's chosen, after all, he had that much to bring a minute level of reassurance to this moment. His crooked tail began to lash against the earth and unintentionally stirred the dirt up ever so slightly. As Willowdance's cries reached his ears, he turned to the younger cat with an urgent and low whisper, "If they wanted to kill us, I get the feeling they would have done so already. Don't make this worse. We'll figure out what's going on, Willowdance." As directed as the words were, he rose them slightly to reach the rest of the warrior's den.

From the glare of the gaze, Wrenspring was certain this was far from over, but the pin became more lax. Whatever beast was holding him down now sought to bring him out with the rest of the clan. Skyclan was blessed with peaceful sleep no more and had been violently thrust into a waking nightmare. He wasn't far from Smokefeather now and shot her a worried glance. Equal part relief, confusion, and concern lined his dull green gaze. The fleeting rays of moonlight illuminated camp but hardly presented any answers. Although, the tom made out what he could, finding it to be the only thing he could do in this moment.

Dawnhawk and Bloodstrike were there, accompanied by a large calico tom. Something was wrong, though, Dawnhawk wasn't pinned, nor did he have a monster at his throat, and he seemed to be speaking with the foreigner. The words they spoke he couldn't make out. The warrior's eyes became glazed over and his throat was dry as sand. He bowed his head and glanced out of the sides of his lids in hope that there would be confirmation of his daughter and the medicine cat's survival. If the warrior ancestors were out there he begged them for a sign that they cared enough to prevent such a catastrophe, whatever it was. Maybe Lion's Eye would hear his plea and rescue Skyclan, send a patrol from an neighboring clan.

No one seemed to be dead yet, at least, other than the fox carcass. But there was still plenty of time.

That night was the coldest night Ashpaw ever knew.  Whenever a gust of wind made its way into the den, immediately she jumped awake.  Eventually, she would have to get used to this kind of weather, but for tonight she found it useless to attempt to sleep.  She laid mostly still.  Hoping that soon the sun would peak over the horizon, she curled herself up, trying to get her own body heat to warm her.  She heard voices outside of the den.  Muffled and unclear voices, but still voices.

She made her way towards the front of the den with slow and careful movements, making sure not to wake any of the other apprentices up.  When she got to the front, she was horrified by what she saw.  Her brother was taking a fighting stance towards her father.  A fighting stance that looked similar to the one he taught her.

Please don't do this Dawnhawk. She thought, her eyes nearly filled with tears.

She trusted her brother.  Sure he might have been hard to please and let her get fairly hurt attacking an owl on her first morning of being an apprentice, but he was family.  She thought he was beginning to like her.  She thought he was finally starting to treat her like she was his sister and at least somewhat like a friend.  But that one image told her everything.

He doesn't care about family.  He doesn't care about me. Her thoughts were both filled with rage and sorrow.  She felt like yelling and screaming, but at the same time like breaking down and crying.  But she just stood there, speechless at that moment.

Cat's that stayed in the darkness, they looked nearly like shadows, were rushing into the den.  She looked from side to side at them, but before she had time to think, claws wrapped around her and a moment later, she was on the ground.  A young black and brown cat with a white underbelly had her pinned.  She looked over at the other apprentices in her who were also pinned.  She did not know who these cats where nor how they got there so fast.

At first she was stunned, but then she started to struggle.  "HELP!" She screamed hoping one of the warrior's wound hear her cry.  The cat above her motioned for her to be silent and put one of it's claws near her throat like a silent threat.  Noticing how many cats there were in the apprentice den, she realized that struggling wound be useless.  Even if she was able to get away from this cat, there must be at least five others that would pin her again.  She wanted to help her clan, but she knew that all she could do was lay there.

At first, Ravenpaw thought it was a dream. The claws poking at her fur was just the nest she slept in being uncomfortable. Of course, her eyes opened due to said uncomfortableness and she realized: it was no dream. There was a mass swarm of shadows everywhere, as if they were trying to blot out the moon itself. A quick glance around saw that she wasn't alone in being pinned down: her fellow apprentices were all under the same mass of claws and pelts. What in the world was going on?! "Get your claws off me, you brute!" she hissed, being so unfortunately stubborn in moments that she probably shouldn't be. Out in the center of the camp, half-visible beyond the deputy and another rogue, she saw a fox. From what she could see, it looked destroyed, with quills sticking out of its back and overall it appeared a terrible sort. "Who would desecrate prey like that," she whispered, as if she would ever be able to drag fox in as prey.

Primroselight lay asleep, paws twitching slightly as she dreamed of climbing through the trees. Again and again she tried, and again she failed. Fresh ointment and cobwebs and all sorts of things were plastered to her shoulder joint and leg, making the herby smell of the medicine den even stronger, since it was right up her nose. A pair of paws held her down, but she didn't wake immediately, assuming it was just Beechface checking her over. But then they held her harder, tighter, pressing her into the ground. Then another pair of paws joined, and another. Three pairs of claws dug into her pelt, and her eyes shot open, her ears and nose finally aware to what was happening. Intruders. How had she not woken sooner?

Beechface, being the unusually vicious medicine cat she was, but up a fight worthy of Lionclan. But even she was now held down by the paws of the strangers. Whispers and yowls passed around camp like wildfire (bad comparison, Primroselight, she realised memories of the too-recent fire in her mind), as each and every cat was attacked. She had no idea what was going on outside, but one thing that she did take notice of was that the paws holding her purposely avoided pressing down on her injured shoulder. At least they have some courtesy, she thought, before instantly correcting herself. Courtesy? They invaded camp whilst we were all in our dens asleep! The usually mild-mannered warrior let out a small growl of annoyance.

What do they want?

Redfall would never forget the tom who had so graciously led him to RiverClan, the tom that he had placed his trust in. And that same tom was consorting with Dawnhawk, a cat he’d never liked anyway. And if vision served him correct, Iniko was next to the pelt of the fox that had killed Sagelight. And Dustpaw, maybe. And most importantly, Swansong. He was glad the fox was dead, but he’d rather a fox be in their camp than so many cats and a traitor.

There was the pricking sensation at his throat that he knew was a cat’s claws. Redfall wasn’t trying to get up just yet. He was staying still, aware of how outnumbered they were - but he had to do something right? He’d failed to save Sagelight, lost Sienna and Swansong, and his kits were absent because he had been - was - a bad father. Wrenspring hated him, or at least wasn’t openly interacting with him. No cat in the Clan trusted him, or liked him, at all really.

Redfall bunched his muscles up and twisted just enough so he could get a good look at Iniko. “Iniko,” he called, as loudly as he could, hoping to divert the loner’s attention, and the cats pinning his Clanmates down. It would probably give them a start if he knew their apparent leader’s name. Redfall shifted a more, eyes glittering angrily. “And you, traitor. What do you think you’re doing?” He was perhaps the only one in the Clan with the courage (or stupidity, or audacity) to call out the two as their camp fell beneath pinned necks and animal pelts. In a quieter voice, “And what’s an asylum...?”

Something's not right.

A frigid current of fright surged violently in the suddenly constricting confines of Vulturepaw's muscles, the abrupt transition from deep slumber into unanticipated fright sending off countless different warnings resonating through her seizing form. The warmth of whatever pleasant dream she had been previously experience melting away to ash in mere seconds, a terrifying awareness taking hold of her drowsy and unprepared senses. Whatever miniscule thing served to wake her so suddenly did ultimately came too late- the unfamiliar creature bearing down upon her already effectively keeping her trapped, locked between the chilly grounds and the bared teeth of a strange... predator. The careful placement of two forepaws upon Vulturepaw's violently fluttering pulse made her entire body go stiff and cold with panic, the trembling arc of her tense nape deepening further in an attempt to further evade the precarious prick of menacing claws.  

It was difficult to find her voice, it was difficult to be brave, it was difficult to... think. Dragging in a shaky breath that made the confines of her narrow chest rattle, the young molly began to squirm- so much so that her captor was forced to bear down more firmly, crushing her down amidst the once comfortable confines of her nest, crushing down the pitiful sparks of rebellion that had reared back in the final moments of this ill-fated interaction. Only after several horribly long heartbeats of stillness, whatever poor attempts at thrashing made on behalf of Vulturepaw gradually dwindling to a halt, did her captor eventually roughly seize her by the nape and begin to awkwardly walk the pair forward. The proceedings transpiring in the heart of their camp made little sense to her already fright-frantic brain, wide gaze desperately flicking back and forth between the evident discussion unfolding between Bloodstrike, Dawnhawk, and one of the intruders.

"Smokefeather!" Vulturepaw couldn't help but squall for her mother like a lost kit, soft voice brittle under the fear of her captor so very close to the vulnerable expanse of her throat, "Beechface!"

Shira hid in the shadows waiting for Dawnhawk's signal.  Her lime green eyes flickered in between him and the other large cat he was speaking to.  When the signal came, she quickly and quietly wandered through the night, going towards the apprentice den.  She was not particularly fond of doing this at night while all the cats were asleep.  It did not seem very honorable to her, but she was willing to do whatever was best for the Asylum.

She tried her best to stay low and keep her white underbelly as out of site as she could.  She rushed into the den along with the other Asylum.  As she entered, she noticed a grey cat standing at the front of the den.  Quietly, she made her way toward the grey cat and pushed the cat to the ground.  The cat she pinned struggled and yelled.  Fine, she thought.  If this cat wants to make things harder on herself, that's fine.

She put her paw over the cats throat and whispered.  "Don't struggle.  Don't speak.  You know you're outnumbered."  She gazed at the other cats and slightly smirked realizing how well the plan was going.

The night before, Graypaw had gone to her nest with the intent of waking up early. She had figured that doing a bit of hunting alone when the sun was just beginning to poke its bright head above the horizon would do her some good. Although she had been looking forward to it, she was clueless to the fact that her plan would be knocked down to the dust. The apprentice slept near the den's entrance, so the Leaf-fall breeze would occasionally sneak its way in and tug at her fur. It made it far easier to fall asleep at night. There was something off, though. Typically, when Graypaw dreamt at night, it was almost as if time didn't exist. A second at night felt like a day. That was definitely not the case today. As she the she-cat slowly slipped out of dreamland and back into full consciousness, she could feel a foreign weight on top of her body. Some of the apprentices were known to be free-spirited and fight-hungry; perhaps it was just a denmate challenging her to a mock fight.

The issue was that Graypaw did not want to have a mock fight. Especially not in the middle of the crowded apprentices' den. Her eyelids slowly fluttered open as she turned her head to look up at the figure on top of her.
"What is the matter with you? It's the middle of the night, why are you acting so foo-?" Her sentence was cut off as her eyes fully adjusted to the darkness.

There was no SkyClanner on top of her...

Realization hit her harshly as she slowly turned her head to look at her trapped denmates. They had all fallen to the exact same fate as her. Graypaw had never expressed fear before, but there was ice running through her veins and discomfort darting through her limbs as she came to the conclusion that she and her Clanmates were outnumbered and overpowered. She believed in her Clan and she had faith in her own fighting skills, but she was also logical. The gray apprentice could feel her heart sink with dismay as her captor roughly took her by the scruff and ushered her out of the den. For every SkyClan cat, there seemed to be three strangers. If a fight occurred, the chances of the Clan surviving would be slim. Graypaw would rather stick her tongue into a bundle of brambles than admit defeat, but alas, she had to.

She scanned the camp with her amber gaze and let out a sight of relief when she saw her father. However, Primroselight and Nighthawk were probably still confined in the dens they had spent the night in. All she could do was hope that they would be safe despite the circumstances. All the while, Graypaw felt slight irritation begin to writhe beneath her pelt.
"I can stand here by myself," Graypaw muttered, meeting the Asylum cat in charge of keeping her grounded with an icy stare, "Don't get your tail in a twist, I won't try to run away. I have nowhere to be."