soft breezes, sharper winds

Thalia was well aware of her status as probably the least intimidating of the Nightstrikers, and certainly out of those stationed in WindClan. She was young, inexperienced, and perfectly aware that she had an unfortunate tendency to shatter under pressure - and while those traits certainly bothered her, she was hoping to use them now as an advantage. She didn't want to antagonize these cats, after all - they were meant to be family, despite their insistence on resisting it.

Most of the Nightstrikers hid in the shadows, but she sat in plain sight; hoping that maybe being clearly seen would show that she meant them no ill will. Shadows lingered all around, but even the small patch of sunlight she found herself in did little to ease the chill of the cold season's swift approach. She wished she'd settled on her fox pelt, but it remained in the makeshift burrow-nest she'd made, the closest thing she had to a home here.

Today her station of choice found her quite close to WindClan's medicine den, in part because she'd been avoiding that part of the camp since they'd first arrived here. Mostly, it was sheer curiosity - this was one of the only proper dens these WindClan cats bothered with, and even if she wasn't wanted she could potentially pick up on something about both the den and the cat that dwelled within it from her post.

Softbreeze was well aware of the cat stationed by her den. She did not care. It was an asylum cat, and therefore could not be trusted. To top it off it had been the weak one, the cat who couldn't even fake being brave. Softbreeze could at least had done that. The she-cat was young and she knew she'd gained Lilacsong and Olivestar's sympathy. But Softbreeze was no fool. Forgiving yes, but not idiotic. Galestar had deserved a second chance, had righted her wrongs. The Asylum cats had not and would not. They were stone-cold monsters. Softbreeze would not be fooled.

Soft was in her name and soft she was, but Barleytuft had raised her better than that. These cats killed her sister, made her kill Dappleshine accidentally. They'd even killed Raventail. Then they thought they'd submit? That they'd forget about the corpse they'd brought home with them? Goldengale lay dead as they offered what they claimed protection. Liars. It was all lies. Softbreeze knew it, Downtuft knew it, Smallbean and Spotlake knew it, Olivestar knew it. Her Clanmates all knew. Except Eagletalon. Traitor. She'd sided with them as her mentor's sister's blood lay spreading into the earth. Even now, the sand where Goldengale's body had sat was stained orange and Softbreeze knew those bloodstains would never come out.

Just like the bloodstains in her den. The disheveled den that had once been so neat was almost hauntingly disturbing. Once fresh, welcoming (if not strong) scents were dull and foreboding. The pungent scent of death and blood still lingered. Although the scattered herbs had been cleaned and replaced, the den ceased to be as comforting as before. Softbreeze used to happily chat away to apprentices in her den, groom Violetpaw and care for her, and happily spend her days in the solace her den provided. But now it lacked that. Softbreeze herself felt sick having to stay in there, but she knew she'd feel worse outside it, where she had to look at those monsters. Turning her back to Thalia, not before glaring at her, Softbreeze huffed as she sat in the shadows, shifting through the pitifully small selection of herbs.

Though she was kind of soft-hearted and often anxious in unfamiliar situations (which everything about their arrival and the days since had been), Thalia possessed a keen eye and the determination to prove herself, whether to higher-ranking Nightstrikers or to wary WindClan cats. She kept her distance, bristling slightly at the glare sent her way, but she carried on watching the WindClan healer. The healer's name was Softbreeze, or something like it, but she seemed far sharper than that would suggest. Perhaps she was soft to her patients, but she'd made it clear enough that the Asylum cats weren't going to be among them. That was alright, though. They had cats who knew medicine in their midst already.

Still, she wanted to offer some sort of kindness, even if it was sure to be rejected. She'd steeled herself for that, after all, knowing now what she was dealing with. "Do you need anything? More herbs, or fresh water...? I can't gather the herbs myself - I can't really tell them apart, sorry, that's more of a Standard thing - but I could send someone who does."

That wasn't entirely true. She could still tell some simple herbs apart, and things that weren't herbs - like cobwebs and tree bark - weren't too difficult to find. But overall she had a hard time telling one leaf from another, or which flowers were useful to anyone at all.

Softbreeze didn't expect to be interrupted, and the interruption was not welcome. Hearing those words, promises of help tumbling from the words of an evil cat in a fox's pelt,  although she wasn't wearing it now, made Softbreeze uncontrollably angry. "What did you just say?" She whispered, slowly turning to look Thalia in the eyes.

"Listen, rat, let me make one thing abundantly clear. You are not welcome here. We do not need you, we do not want you. You have absolutely zero rights to offer us help. Your kind have murdered three of our Clan and destroyed our herbs. You invaded our lives uninvited and torture us daily with your presence. Do not mock me or any of us by offering your 'assistance'. You've done more than enough damage here."

Softbreeze's voice lacked all warmth and eyes glittered with cold malice. There was something dangerous about her stance, hunched over with a bristling pelt and lashing tail. Like an adder poised to attack, waiting for the right moment. "We aren't as stupid as you take us for. We actually have brains, unlike you.

As WindClan's healer spoke, more and more venom to her words as she went, Thalia bristled. Not with nervousness, or anything of the sort; but with anger, on behalf of her friends and family. The only home she knew. "Your people murdered three of ours," she said quietly. No accusations, just a simple statement. One she knew to be true - not only from Theron's words during their arrival, but thanks to a tale that was once told to her by Roe. "They were cats, just like you, with names and faces and families and friends. Ovi, Pakhet. Do their lives not matter to you, just because you don't care for them? That's truly heartless, isn't it? Don't pretend to be better than you think we are just because you wrap it all up in different words."

(Being called a rat, being talked down to like this, she could manage. But that Softbreeze would place blame for deaths she did not cause on her shoulders, and refuse to shoulder the same when it was turned around? She wouldn't stand for that. She wouldn't let herself stand for that.)

"I hate this entire situation as much as you do." As she spoke, she didn't move at all. Perfectly still, remaining at her post - doing everything she was supposed to, everything she was told, and receiving nothing at all. "All of you WindClan cats are so caught up in your twisted superiority complex that you honestly think you're somehow better than us. It's colder every day. I haven't slept in a den, let alone my own nest, in days." Thalia shook her head. "Do you really think I want to be here? I'm trying to make it easier for the both of us, that's all."

"Are you blind? None of us sleep in dens except the elderly, the infants and their mothers, and the sick! Don't complain because you get treated the same as us. Those three that died on your side the first time? Who attacked first? We cannot be blamed for defending ourselves. I would not fault you either if we'd attacked first and lost cats. And if we're counting cats that died the first time as well, then the total is now six on our side. One of your kind skinned an apprentice and wore Puddlepaw as a pelt! What greater insult is there?" Softbreeze snarled.

She'd turned around lightning fast when Thalia had begun talking. "You've got some nerve to talk. Clearly you Asylum cats think you're far more superior than any other type of life. What idiotic kind of cat thinks they can just destroy every other cats way of life? How is that fair? You aren't making anything easier, you weaselheart! If you hate it so much here, THEN LEAVE!" The pale molly all but screamed the last part, claws unsheathed. Quieter, in almost a whisper, she continued, "Of course their lives matter. I hope wherever they are, they're happy. All cats' lives matter. Their way of life, their opinions, their thoughts and reasonings. It's honorable to die fighting for what you believe in, truly."

Her eyes had been closed as she mewed, and when she opened them, they were colder than ice. "And that's why I'd rather die than submit to the likes of you. I will never give into a band of rogues who kill those who don't want to join them."

Thalia rose to her paws as the WindClanner unsheathed her claws; eager to put as much distance between the two of them as she could manage. "Okay," she told the healer, backing up slowly, careful to keep her eyes on her adversary - never turn your back to an opponent, that was basic training - as she did so. If she wasn't going to feel safe at her post, they could deal with her leaving. Someone else could take over for a while. "Why don't you stay over there, and don't come any closer, and I'll just be... Leaving, yes. Bye!"

When she'd backed far enough, she turned to dash away; WindClan had proven too much for her once again. She took a quick detour to slip into her fox pelt, even knowing that once she'd had time to calm down she'd have to return (because she wasn't some weasel-hearted idiot, whatever anyone thought, she was going to do what she was supposed to do), and she slipped out of the camp with a whisper to one of the guards that she would be back later.