Warning Sign [Wolfstar]

Smokefeather had walked into camp while her kits had been arguing, though she kept her mouth closed around the fresh-kill she'd been carrying to avoid saying anything. Right now, she had no desire to speak to or even look at Dawnhawk, nor did she have the energy to break up his and Beechface's seemingly endless fighting. Ashstorm and Copperfox had been involved too, but what was more surprising was that Primroselight hadn't been the one to try breaking things up like she normally would have. No, her sweet kit had instead lashed out with just as much fury as Beechface had been known to do. Smokefeather had found herself staring, mute with surprise.

Yet she'd turned her back instead, retreating to a quieter corner of the camp. She did not have the energy to deal with them. There was too much going on already, and all Smokefeather wanted was peace and quiet. Fights were expected among siblings, and Dawnhawk had certainly earned their vitriol after... what he had done. Yet the way that Copperpaw, Ashstorm and Beechface all snapped at each other... And Primroselight losing her temper, of all cats...

Smokefeather absently shook her head, tired gray-green eyes thoughtfully watching as the sun started to make it's way below the tree tops for the night. She was so very tired, so very frustrated with recent events. Bloodstrike was still gone, and the new litter of kits would be here soon enough. Asylum was no closer to leaving, and Smokefeather worried about raising them with the rogues around. She wasn't sure she wanted to, even. Her older kits were troublesome enough, but at least she'd been able to raise them all with relative peace. The worst she'd ever had to worry about was Dawnkit and Beechkit squabbling and Primrosekit's vision.

Now, though? Leafbare was approaching. Rogues filled the camp, none of which she trusted. Smokefeather wasn't sure she even knew her older kits like she thought she did. And Bloodstrike, Bloodstrike...

Dwelling on things was madness, she knew. And yet, what else could she do?

It was clear to him that Smokefeather was stressed, and Wolfstar didn't blame her. On top of recent events, she was also expecting another litter of kits, and her mate was both injured and missing. He sympathized with what she was going through, obviously, but it was on a different level for her, he was sure. Dawnhawk was her kit. And he'd betrayed them all. Wordlessly, the leader padded over, leaving Dawnhawk, Ashstorm, and the pale Asylum tom behind him. He dipped his head in greeting to Smokefeather, then lay beside her, opposite the side of her bulging belly. For a while, they just lay side-by-side in silence, Wolfstar stretching one foreleg ahead of him and curling the other beneath his chin. Without the siblings' bickering, the camp seemed quiet, almost peaceful.

"No one blames you, you know," he said gently, quietly. "You couldn't have known. None of us did."

Smokefeather said nothing as Wolfstar approached, merely offered him a nod as he stretched out beside her. He spoke after a bit, but to Smokefeather the words rang hollow.

"I raised him, didn't I? Sometimes I wonder..." She responded quietly, a weary shake of her head. Blossomstep had been nothing but a wonderful mentor. Bloodstrike was a devoted, if stern, father. Smokefeather had tried, as frustrating as the golden tom could be at times. She had tried, and she had failed.

"Still, I would've never expected Dawnhawk of something like this. He betrayed his own father, as well as the clan. Primroselight is furious, Primroselight. I feel like I don't recognize my own kits anymore." Beechface going off was expected, even normal. Her and Dawnhawk had caused seemingly endless grief in their constant bickering and real fighting when they were younger, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. She hated watching them fight, but over time it had become something to expect. The truth of that grated, even now.

"Copperfox has a good heart, but I doubt words will change anything, at this point. Beechface has no sense of tact, but I understand her anger. Even so, the last thing the clan needs is infighting."

The leader offered a solemn nod at Smokefeather's words. He didn't disagree, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to speak just yet. She was right, the infighting was tearing the clan apart, and he didn't know how to fix it... sure, he could do as he had with his grandchildren, and set them to apprentice duties as punishment but that was a temporary fix at best... he had no solution for this. What did you do when your family hated each other?

After a while, Wolfstar sighed gently. "I'm afraid I've made them all hate me, now," he mused, voice low. "But something had to be said. They can't..." Wolfstar trailed off, shaking his head sadly. "I don't think they realize how lucky they are, to have each other..." A pang of sadness pierced Wolfstar's heart like a jagged thorn, and he briefly closed his eyes as he though about Juniperlight. His brother was out there, all alone... perhaps forever. He'd probably never know for sure.

"And I don't know how to make them see it, either." The dark tom's eyes slid sideways, staring at the entrance of the medicine den with a forlorn expression painted all over his face.

"They don't." She sighed quietly, "Maybe they did, once. But I think Dawnhawk's actions have destroyed whatever sense of that they had. I don't know that I could say anything to help the situation, either." She and her own sibling weren't particularly close. Mistrain had been more of a sibling to her than anything, but sweet Mistrain was gone now.

"Prim will be easier to talk to once she cools off, but you need to talk to them... Beechface, especially. Aside from Bloodstrike, she struggled the most as they overran the camp. She panicked, not that she'd admit it." She watched as his gaze remained forlornly fixed on the medicine den, her own tail flicking in restless agitation and worry.

"All I see when I close my eyes is Bloodstrike's mangled form after Dawnhawk so kindly called off the rogues. He... made it clear that it was done so Bloodstrike wouldn't become a martyr, Wolfstar. I think that's what Beechface sees when she closest her eyes, too." And Blossomstep, Smokefeather couldn't imagine seeing one of her own kits in that position. She couldn't imagine one of her kits being the cause of it, and yet that's what had happened.

"If I hadn't seen him vanish under that mass of rogues, I wouldn't have recognized him."

Smokefeather's description of the events the night of Asylum's takeover made the leader's claws slide out into the dirt, and he tensed his shoulders, tilting them back with a heavy, shaky sigh. Bloodstrike was his son, and he missed him desperately, but he couldn't imagine the thought of Blossomstep being in his place, and so his heart ached for Smokefeather at the thought of her having to see her own mate's bloodied, torn-up form dragged away and imprisoned.

"I will... if they'll let me," he breathed. "But that's a big if."

One of his ears flicked to the side, and he lay his chin across a tense foreleg, now glancing sidelong at her. "We'll get him back, Smokefeather. Whatever it takes. I promise that. I just need time to figure it out."

Smokefeather could see the affect her words had on the leader, and she shifted, briefly resting her tail against his flank.

"Beechface will make you work for it, I'm sure. She's hurting and is trying to hide it... Much like some other fools we know." Her daughter was nothing if not stubborn. And far too much like Bloodstrike for her own good. "But this cannot be left to fester."

Smokefeather shook her head and sighed, "I would do whatever it takes to get him back. And I think most of the clan would be behind us, in that." She said quietly. The problem was finding a way to get him back, the task seemed impossible, even to Smokefeather.

The massive tangle of ideas that had been floating around in Wolfstar's head agreed with Smokefeather, too, but it was something that was far easier said than done. Getting Bloodstrike back was his priority, that much he knew, and if he had even the faintest idea where his son was being held, he'd be hard-pressed to stop from storming the gates. He knew the clan would be behind him, too... most of them, at least.

Wolfstar turned his head to look at Smokefeather. "I will find him. And then we'll bring him home. I just... need a little while to figure things out." Rising to his paws, Wolfstar touched Smokefeather's shoulder with the tip of his tail, seeming as if he wanted to say something. But he didn't, just nodded a farewell and then left.