pieces of home

WindClan was in good paws with the rest of the Asylum, and Thalia was content to leave them to it. She found herself, instead, returning to her true home. While the rolling moors were pretty, they didn't feel like home to her - home was the camp surrounded by loose stones; the ledge under which she'd once slept. More than anything, though, it was the cats she'd shared her dens with, some of whom had followed her to WindClan and some of whom had not, that made up the home and family she knew and loved.

It was rare that she found the time to do nothing, now, and she clung to it the way she often clung to the cats around her - hiding in their shadows, allowing them to take the spotlight because she didn't feel that she deserved it. For now she rested in an empty space, carefully grooming her fur.

Spark wandered back to Asylum camp. Since Flintstar's quick surrender, he decided to return back home, just for now. ShadowClan is in good hands. Because of this, the ginger tom padded back to the place he called home, his first true home. It was as beautiful as he imagined it before, and he loved being there. The ginger tom felt like he belonged here more than ShadowClan, even though he knew that this was only temporary. Looking around, he saw another Asylum cat, one that looked very familiar.

Thalia.

He once went on a patrol with her and another Nightstriker named Stag. She was actually the one to ask him to join the patrol, and he assumed that she also asked Stag to join as well. The three of them got along pretty well, surprisingly, so Spark was happy to see her again. "Hey Thalia," he said. "How are you?" The young she-cat brought out more conversation in Spark than almost any other cat could, since Spark felt more comfortable with her and Stag than any other cat.

"Spark!" Thalia found that her attempted relaxation was swiftly interrupted - not that she minded, given the company. It was always good to see another friendly face. "Better, now that I'm back here for a little while. It's been kind of a rough few days, honestly... But, um, that doesn't matter!" She couldn't hide her own curiosity, though, pressing on in an attempt to both avoid the topic of herself and learn a little more about how things had gone with her friend's assignment. "Enough about me - how are you? Did things go smoothly for you in ShadowClan? What happened?"

Despite her relative laziness and eagerness to relax, the sparkle had returned to her eyes as she pelted her friend with a barrage of questions.

The ginger tom listened to Thalia speak. She of course asked Spark questions, something that the young Nightstriker loved to do. If it was almost any other cat, Spark wouldn't respond to those questions. But since he liked Thalia, he was comfortable sharing them with her. "I'm doing well," he said. "Getting ShadowClan to accept the terms was easy. Flintstar spared his cats from getting hurt by surrendering." The ginger tom almost asked Thalia how WindClan's occupation was going, but he realized by how the Nightstriker was saying that she 'had a rough few days' that the occupation wasn't going well, and that Thalia wasn't keen on talking about it. Deciding to change the subject, Spark tried thinking of different conversation topics.

The only problem was that his mind was blanking on what to talk about. He wanted to change to something else, but he didn't know what to change the topic to. The ginger tom looked down, batting his paw at a nearby stick. He wasn't even nervous. His brain just stopped being able to think of a new topic for no reason. Did my brain just pull a Brick? Why did my brain just pull a Brick? Indeed, the fellow Scout who had a head that was always empty was a good comparison to how his brain was functioning at this point in time, even though he was able to think of other things. There was an awkward silence between the two cats, one that Spark didn't like due to it being out of his control. Looking back up at Thalia, the ginger tom spoke. "My brain just pulled a Brick," the Scout said. "I could not think of anything to say until now."

"Is that a thing that can happen now? Pulling a Brick?" Thalia felt herself laugh at the concept, and already felt a little bit better about everything that had happened. Perhaps as a result of that, she fell into the story almost without meaning to. "It, um... Their leader, Olivestar, surrendered right away. But the rest of the WindClan cats... They didn't listen. To her or to Captain Theron. And Captain Theron really doesn't like when no one listens to her. So, um... Things didn't go so well. And they really didn't like that." She left the details vague, not particularly wanting to recall them herself. Spark was smart, and she was talking about Captain Theron; he could probably figure out that there was some degree of bloodshed. "And we tried to speak up, about how wonderful life in Asylum is..."

She sighed. "They didn't like that, either, and they said some pretty awful things. And then my pelt fell off in front of everyone! And now they all probably think I'm weak, too... I was just trying to impress the Captain, I swear, but in the end I couldn't... I couldn't handle it." Realizing she'd slipped into her own insecurities, as well as the troubles of the WindClan occuptation, she continued, "I'm sorry, I've made things serious... This was supposed to be fun!"

"I thought I would never get out of that awful place!"

A shrill voice cut through the peaceful air as the multi-colored bundle of fur that was Ceres bounded directly into the Asylum camp. The familiar scents and sights of the camp that she was able to truly call her home was practically a sight for sore eyes. The Nightstrikers in SkyClan were closely guarding the entrance and exit of the camp, and the Scouts and Standards were out on their respective patrols. Ceres had figured that leaving for a bit to clear her head wouldn't hurt. Besides, she would probably be back before they even noticed she was gone. It was discouraging to know that she would eventually have to leave once again to head back to SkyClan, so relishing her time here while she had it was definitely the smart decision.

She took a moment to stretch her paws and look around for a moment once she entered. Taking over the Clans was a plan that Ceres had whole-heartedly agreed with, but staying in their camps was something that she had not. The Standard paused when her eyes landed on Thalia and Spark who were quietly chatting near one of the camp's empty corners. Her eyes began to glow with glee as she padded over.
"Hey, y'all," She purred, giving them both an eager smile, "I hope I'm not interrupting or whatever. It's been a while, though!"

Spark waited as Thalia told him about how WindClan's occupation was going. That's not good, was the first thought that came through his mind when the she-cat mentioned the WindClan cats not listening to Theron. Knowing Theron, not listening to her as an enemy cat would mean death and killings until WindClan gives in. When Thalia explained further, the ginger tom realized that not only was he right, but that made WindClan resist harder, if he was interpreting her words correctly. And then they didnt listen to how Asylum was going to be a great home for them, which would cause them to lose more and more cats until they behave. As Thalia revealed a side of her that Spark didn't normally see, a side that she seemed to keep hidden in front of many cats, the ginger tom smiled warmly. "It's fine," he said. "Whenever you need to get something off your chest, I'm always open to listen." The ginger tom was sincere in his words, which he believed Thalia needed at this point in time.

As Ceres came to the two cats, Spark walked up to speak. "Hello Ceres. Yes, it has been a while. A long while. How did SkyClan's occupation go? Was it good, or did something go wrong during the occupation?" The ginger tom spoke with a very unusual speech pattern, at least for him. He repeated phrases, he responded to Ceres' questions, and weirdest of all, he asked her questions himself. All of this did have a purpose, however, since Thalia was feeling a little down from talking about the WindClan occupation, so he began adding small talk so he could talk to Ceres. He didn't know Ceres that well, which meant that he was breaking one of his core rules that he had always carried around with him, but it was only temporary, and it was the least he could do to help Thalia.

Griffon had been having trouble adjusting to the new rein of the Asylum over the clans. They functioned so differently, he hardly understood what was happening half the time. And none of them were eager to interact with a Standard, nor so much as acknowledge his presence! They held such a grudge towards him that he had nothing to with, and it was exhausting. After accompanying a hunting patrol, he had asked if he could take a break and head back, and fortunately he had been allowed. Running through the bushes into his home, he grinned, spotting Thalia, Spark, and Ceres, all cats around his age. It was nice to see them, and have some real company.

"Hey! How are you guys? It seems like I’ve been stuck in that camp for moons. They’re all so annoyed with the Asylum cats. I haven’t had a real conversation in ages. And Thunderclan is super confusing." He grinned, sitting down next to Ceres. He knew her the best, having trained together. They were in the same faction, after all. He hadn’t seen these cats since before the takeover. Thalia had been assigned to Windclan, Spark to Shadowclan, and Ceres to Skyclan. His striped tail flicked happily. Here he could unwind, relax, be himself, unlike in the camp he had been assigned too. The last few days had been stressful, and he had seen a lot. He wondered if the other clans had struggled so much. Eris had taken a leader’s life. That reminded him, and he piped up again.

"I saw the craziest thing. Eris killed their leader, Nettlestar, and she came back to life! The stories about the nine lives are true!" His amber eyes were wide with excitement.

With the arrival of Ceres and Griffon, Thalia could feel her mood lifting once again. She addressed Ceres first; her shrill voice cutting through the sounds of the camp. "Awful place? What's wrong with SkyClan?" There was no doubt in her voice, only genuine curiosity - she trusted Ceres' judgment, for the most part. Her smile was small, but genuine and welcoming. "You've gotta give us the details now, come on!"

Oh, how she'd missed the company of cats she knew; the handful of familiar faces overall drowned out by the hostility of strangers. "It can't be that confusing, can it?" she asked, directing the words to Griffon. "Unless they don't sleep in dens, either. WindClan cats are so strange! You'd think they'd want some kind of cover - it's all far too open. I mean, I guess the view is pretty... But that's the only nice thing I can think of to say." The young Nightstriker narrowed her eyes to better get across the annoyance she felt. "And it's not worth sleeping in a burrow."

Ceres tilted her head to the side as memories of the takeover came back to her. In her mind, it hadn’t been nearly as eventful as it could’ve been. She had been there firsthand to witness the brutal beating of Bloodstrike and the yells of his family along with the murmurs of confusion and fear from the other SkyClan cats, but that still didn’t satisfy her. After all, she had only seen the whole affair from the back of the camp. Wouldn’t it be a more interesting story to tell if she had actually been involved in the tussle?
“The occupation went pretty well,” Ceres spoke directly to Spark, “It took a little bit of time, though. Some cat named Bloodstrike tried to resist, but he got bloodied up pretty badly. No joke, he looked like a whole other cat once the Nightstrikers were done with him.”
That part had been the truth.
“I managed to get a ton of scratches in. It was insane! It’s not like I wanted to hurt him, but maybe if he didn’t try to resist then nothing bad would’ve happened."
That part had been a lie. What harm would it do, though?

She turned her head to look at Griffon with a smile once the tom approached. It was almost difficult to believe the fact that multiple lives in a cat actually existed. No matter how much she tried to figure it out, it didn’t make sense.
“Gosh, it seems like most of us aren’t having the best experience with our Clans. SkyClan is the weirdest place with the weirdest cats I’ve ever seen!” Ceres complained, her eyes widening, “They literally run on trees. Like, they run up the bark and jump from branch to branch to get places. It makes no sense… what if one of the branches snapped? They’re cats, not birds.”
Truthfully, Ceres wouldn’t have hated that Clan so much if she actually knew how to do what the SkyClan cats did. Perhaps she just hated being left out.

In comparison to the Clan that she was in, Thalia’s Clan seemed nice. Sleeping out in the open was probably a pain since it was always cold outside these days, but it must’ve been relaxing when it was warm.
“Why did I have to get stuck with the worst Clan? WindClan sounds a lot better than SkyClan.” Ceres huffed, wrapping her tail around her paws.

Raisha came into the camp, just as Ceres was complaining about her assigned Clan. "You think you have it rough?" The she-cat grumbled, clearly cranky. "You can't go anywhere in RiverClan if you don't swim. And I hate water. I'm wet. I'm cold. I smell like fish. I would climb trees any day just to get away from that Clan. I think Eris has bees in her brain for sending me there. Or she thought it was funny, but I certainly don't."

Stalking over to a spot in the corner of the camp, she lied down, her chest heaving a little. It has grown a lot harder to breathe with as much water as she had been swallowing during her swims, and she was often rasping now. At least she was smart enough to always go with another Asylum cat until she learned to swim well, as she doubted any RiverClan cat would save her if she was drowning.

Griffon smiled, looking around at his friends. It seemed they all had different experiences with the clans, and not all of them were positive! "Luckily, Thunderclan has dens. They have such weird ranks, too. Medicine cats, warriors, everyone has only one job. No Standards or Nightstrikers or Scouts. And cats that are training are apprentices. Elders just sit around pretty much. And then they have a leader and a ‘deputy.’ They don’t even have rank scars! How can you tell who is who?" He rambled, talking about how strange the clans were. It was hard to comprehend something so different from his life. He chuckled, looking towards Ceres. "Thunderclan has lots of trees too, but I don’t think they climb them. They’re real good at tracking prey, I’ve seen them on a few patrols. And a lot of them are huge! Lots of tabbies. Like, half the clan at least! I’m sure Skyclan isn’t that bad."

As he spoke, he tended to his pelt, which he had tossed of as he had entered camp. The coat of the dog had gotten a bit dirty, and he hadn’t had much spare time. It was always watching, just hanging around the cats. In the shadows, like some dark beings. His tail flicked, grooming his own fur quickly. "I’m glad I don’t have to swim, either. Water is gross!" He spoke towards Raisha. "I guess I’m pretty lucky with Thunderclan. It’s not like any of them like me, though. Why do they hate the Asylum so much? We’re giving them prey, protection, and they just get mad." He sighed.

"From what I heard, all the cats we assimilate are like that. It's always gotta be their ways. When cats have a tradition, they don't like to change. And they tend to be blind when it hurts them." Raisha snorted as she answered Griffon. He was so innocent, she actually pitied him.

"Don't worry too much, though, Griffon. You're a pretty likeable cat, they'll come around eventually. Once they get their heads out of the clouds, at least. "StarClan be with us." "StarClan look after us." What is with this StarClan? They actually believe dead cats will help them? That is stupid! They're lucky they've got us to help them, if they think their "ancestors" can do anything!"

Raisha could have gone on forever ranting about their beliefs. But she was supposed to play nice. The Asylum was there to protect the Clans, not to criticize their beliefs. However stupid those beliefs might be.

Once the conversation grew in number, with even more cats in the conversation, Spark moved into more of a listening role. He thought that the clans were very odd himself, and they certainly had different beliefs than he did. Of course, he heard that the clan leaders had nine lives, which probably couldn't have come from anywhere but their ancestors. Their faith to their ancestors is powerful, and we can't take it for granted. Either way, he wasn't going to participate in this discussion about clan life and how strange it was. The first thing Spark noticed were their similarities to Asylum, not their differences.

The fact that every cat had specialized roles in the clans wasn't as far off from Asylum as Raisha made it up to be, since Asylum itself had Scouts and  Nightstrikers, two very specialized roles. Their leader wasn't that different from the Asylum Head, except for the fact that there was one singular successor who had rights to leadership, unlike the three potential successors in Asylum. An appointed leader to-be is a good decision among the clans, since it will help an individual clan not tear itself apart due to conflicting powers. However, the negatives of Clan life overshadowed the singular positive, so Spark would still choose Asylum in a heartbeat. Other main differences were the lack of scars that identified one's rank or faction, as well as a lack of animal pelts, but those characteristics were unique to Asylum's culture.

Griffon shrugged. "I get that, it’s just a bit annoying. They’re all so prideful, like their clans are the greatest things to walk the earth. They talk a lot about Starclan. Like yeah, I know that they have ancestors, but do they actually believe they can ‘save’ them? Because they sure aren’t doing a great job of that now." He paused for a moment. It was a conversation that was rapidly changing directions and speakers, but it was nice to have something interesting.

"Some of them thought that we were actually predators when we came into their camps! It was pretty funny." he grinned, remembering the looks of horror on their face. He didn’t particularly like causing fear, but it was funny that they had actually believed it. Once they had gotten close enough though, they had seen that the pelts were just costumes, worn on cats.