The Liberation of Skyclan [Clan Plot Topic]

Copperfox had dropped another fat quail onto the fresh kill pile. He normally wasn't up so early, but he'd been excited to train Tornpaw the night before. He had high hopes for her and enjoyed having an apprentice more than he thought he would. She was tired though, since they patrolled the night before. He supposed it was better to fill the fresh-kill pile and do other duties if he couldn't sleep, so there he was, being the good Skyclan cat that he knew how to be. Then a voice yowled out...

"Eris is dead! Asylum has fallen!"

Copperfox froze in place... it seemed every cat around him had too. A group of cats approached from the direction of the River... from the direction of Fourtrees. Among them was Blossomstep and... and...

Dad??? Copperfox thought he recognized the colors on the giant tom... then he was one hundred percent sure of it. Bloodstrike had returned! Blossomstep too! Ravenclaw was among them... What had happened?

"SKYCLAN! WAKE UP! BLOODSTRIKE, BLOSSOMSTEP! THEY'RE BACK!" Copperfox yowled before charging forward. His legs ate up the distance between himself and the returning members of Skyclan. His joy overwhelmed him so much that he couldn't help but laugh, truly laugh like he hadn't in a long time.

That laugh was cut violently short.

Bloodstrike locked eyes with him... a face torn and scarred with one fang permanently exposed on the left side where his lip was missing. Not only that... but Bloodstrike had dropped into a defensive crouch... and the noise that erupted from his maw didn't sound like any noise a cat should have made. Copperfox couldn't move... and his voice was lost in the wind... again.

---

Bloodstrike's head buzzed and pounded with pain. Every step was agony. He felt nauseous. His heart wouldn't stop racing. He licked constantly at his exposed left fang to keep it from drying out... but his mouth was always dried out. No matter how much water he drank or how much blood coated his teeth... he was uncomfortable. The journey home was a blur, and something he didn't believe was quite real yet. The sun peaking over the horizon startled him and put him on edge. He wanted to go back to the darkness. It was familiar and comfortable there.

Bloodstrike was so preoccupied in his pain, discomfort and uncertainty... when a voice yelled out,

BLOODSTRIKE!

Bloodstrike dropped into a fighting stance and bellowed out a surprised and enraged caterwaul. He blindly swiped left and swiped right, hissing, spitting... expecting pain. His eyes then locked onto a fluffy tom... one that he thought he should know. "DON'T TOUCH ME! GET AWAY FROM ME!" He practically barked. After a few moments of tension... Bloodstrike realized who the fluffy tom was.

"Copperfox..?" His rage slowly died down, replacing it with exhausted confusion. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. The change had been abrupt and violent... and he was getting tired. His mind felt like sandpaper, and each rush of adrenaline brought on new waves of pain and nausea throughout his body. "Why do I hurt so much?" He muttered, screwing his eyes shut and wanting absolutely nothing to do with the blinding sunshine peaking over the trees.

Beechface let out a quiet growl of annoyance as an excited yowl broke into her fitful sleep, but she shoved herself out of her nest with a huff, shaking a few stray scraps of moss from her pelt as she did so. Copperfox' words hadn't really registered, and she let out a low growl, snapping at the guards that had made their homes outside her den for the last season. To her surprise they actually backed away from her... And then Copperfox' words sank in. And... another voice, one she'd never thought she'd hear again. Beechface whipped around, still half-convinced she wasn't actually hearing what she thought she was, face dark with irritation still--

Any trace of annoyance at being woken up suddenly vanished as she caught sight of the cats Copperfox was standing in front of. Grandma, Ravenclaw... "Dad." She managed, voice rising slightly in pitch, more like an excited kit than a grumpy medicine cat. He was alive, and looked... even worse than she'd remembered, honestly.

"What in Starclan's name happened?" She asked, gaze flicking from Bloodstrike's tattered form to Blossomstep, and then to a blood-stained Ravenclaw. Her sister didn't appear to be injured, but Blossomstep... She'd known her grandmother wouldn't have just disappeared of her own volition. Beechface stepped forward, almost hesitantly brushing her tail along Blossomstep's flank. Against her better judgement, she pressed against Bloodstrike briefly, unable to help the grin on her face even as she looked over her father with concern. Up closed he looked terrible. He was out of the Asylum's clutches (and Beechface was vaguely aware of them fleeing the camp around them) but he was about as far from okay as she could've imagined, that much was clear.

"You two, my den. Before you keel over." She ordered briskly.

"Copperfox, go find mom! She's out hunting... I think." If anyone needed to know that Bloodstrike was back, it was her. Smokefeather had turned into a ghost around camp recently, staying out in the forest for longer periods of time and only seeming to appear when dropping prey on the fresh-kill pile or when stumbling to her nest. That she didn't stay in her nest for any longer than necessary (or even the bare minimum), well, that was common knowledge to anyone unfortunate enough to share a den with her. Tossing and turning was the least of Smokefeather's problems.

The medicine cat turned, gently nudging the returned cats in the direction of her den.

---

Birdpaw's head snapped up at the sound of yowls. She was sitting in front of the apprentice den, struggling with the feeling of anxiousness fluttering in her chest. It wasn't like mom to be this late for training, and she wasn't in the warrior den. In fact, nobody had seen her since last night. Had she been taken by the Asylum? Dawnhawk had told her not to listen to what her mother said, but Birdpaw trusted Ravenclaw above anyone.

Spotting the group returning, her eyes widened. Mom! And Blossomstep and... Who she guessed was Bloodstrike, based on Copperfox' excited yowl... Which was promptly cut off by Bloodstrike. Birdpaw flinched in surprise at the outburst, green eyes staring up at the massive, dark tom for a moment.

The entire lot of them looked worn and bloody.

"Mom... Are you alright?" She asked after a moment, gaze flicking between the cats, worry and unease plain across her face.

Tornpaw was awoken by the loud noises just outside of the apprentice den. There was shouting.. why? The white and golden She-cat stood from her nest, pushing her way outside. Azure eyes taking in the cats that were returning to camp. One.. one she didn't like at all. He looked scary..

Carefully the new apprentice pushed herself up beside Birdpaw, her eyes slightly wide at the sight of the large tom. Why did he growl at her mentor? Who was he? She didn't like it.. Her eyes flicked between all the cats not really knowing a few of them. Others she had seen around camp, but.. Where was Dawnhawk? Where was her father? "Where's dad..?" She spoke quietly. Shouldn't he be here to welcome these cats back? Or tell her who they were?

It wasn’t the yowling that coaxed Jaypaw to consciousness, but the rustling of her denmates’ nests being vacated, their occupants shoving past each other in their haste to see the source of the commotion. She lifted her head just enough for her ears to be free of moss. Shouting, talking. Too many words for this time of day. For once, it didn’t sound much like a fight, so Jaypaw wasn’t in any particular hurry as she stretched sleep out of her limbs. Once she’d woken up about halfway, she picked herself up and followed the other apprentices into the light.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but a group of battered, bloody warriors wasn’t it.

Jaypaw’s fluffy tail waved cautiously as she looked over the older cats. Naturally, she recognized them all after a few seconds’ thinking—but there was one oddity. A scarred, tattered tom who could have leapt right out of the old stories about TigerClan. She’d fought a few rogues… Never anyone as wild-looking as this. Distantly, it occurred to her that she should probably be afraid. But she wasn’t a coward, nor was she fully awake, so she scurried to join Birdpaw and Tornpaw without another moment’s hesitance. “Who’s that?”

Sensing the nervous shifting of her sister, Shadepaw emerged from the apprentices' den to take a seat beside Birdpaw. Sleepily, she rasped a tongue across her sister's ear and tucked her tail over her's, blinking out at camp. All seemed normal, save for the nervous energy wafting from Birdpaw. Vulturecry wasn't yet up for training, but that was alright with Shadepaw. The energy around camp had been especially frought lately, with those stupid Asylum cats prowling around.

Since her training began, Shadepaw had decided she very much didn't like the Asylum cats. No one would tell her why they were there or why they stayed there, plus they smelled weird and did weird things, and it rubbed her pelt the wrong way. Not to mention, one had snuck into the nursery and killed Featherkit. Shadepaw shook the anger from her fur and sighed heavily. She was about to say something to her sister when a yowl sounded around camp.

"Eris is dead! Asylum has fallen!"

Copperfox, she saw, froze in his tracks where he stood, as cats filtered in to camp. Her great-grandmother was among them, as well as Ravenclaw, and...a huge tom she didn't recognize. All were bloodied and beaten, a sight that made the apprentice's stomach turn.

Everything seemed to happen at once. Blood rushed in her ears as she watched, feeling helpless, able to only press further into her sister's fur. Jaypaw and Tornpaw joined them, yet Shadepaw hardly acknowledged them. She couldn't keep her eyes off of that monstrosity of a cat that Copperfox and Beechface seemed to know.

Now that she thought about it, she had heard tell of a huge tom that was Smokefeather's mate, and Ravenclaw's father. Could this be him? It had to be... Jaypaw's voice reached through the rushing and she heard her own voice, hoarse and tense, reply, "Bloodstrike."

The trek back to camp was more solemn than Ravenclaw would have liked. It was mostly due to the state of Bloodstrike - her father. Being captured by the Asylum had left him looking much worse for wear, but the true gravity of that particular situation hadn’t really hit her yet. For her, she was just glad that her dad was alive and coming back home. On top of that, they had won! The five clans had banded together and driven out the invaders. Their leader was dead, many of their ranks were dead, and the rest had fled for their lives. The sight brought great joy to her heart. She had needed something good after the moons of disarray and heartbreak. That was why, despite the more somber tone, she was in high spirits.

She was concerned about Bloodstrike’s outburst, but luckily Beechface showed up and took him - along with Blossomstep - to her den to tend to their wounds. As for Ravenclaw, she would have no need for that. Despite the blood on her fur, it wasn’t hers. She had teamed up with two other cats to drive that traitor Dawnhawk away. As much as she would’ve loved to kill him herself, seeing him run tail was a sweet compromise. She was pretty full of herself and having quite a hop in her step when Birdpaw came towards her.

“Oh I’m more than alright,” she crowed, giving Birdpaw a comforting lick on the head. “We showed those Asylum cats who’s boss. Their leader is dead, and those foxhearts won’t bother us or any of the other clans anymore.” She had just participated in a huge battle for the fate of the forest, yet she was still hopped up on energy. She wanted to run through the forest, yowling with triumph. She just needed to make sure the other cats knew what she’d done so her name would be passed down through the generations. Who had taken down the invaders? Who had saved their father? She had! And a bunch of other cats, but especially Ravenclaw. Totally.

Copperfox had to snap himself out of his frozen state, but luckily Beechface's barking orders helped him do that. He blinked and drew breath, not realizing he had been holding it. He'd been so excited to see his dad that he hadn't taken into consideration that Bloodstrike had changed. How couldn't he have? Unsure of what else to do, Copperfox turned and galloped after Smokefeather's scent. He would at least warn her of the changes before she had to see it for herself. She had been through enough already.

---

Bloodstrike stared blankly ahead as Beechface approached. He hardly moved when she touched him, except to watch what she was doing. He knew who she was... he knew he should feel more than just numb to seeing his daughter again. But he didn't. He felt only tired, in pain all over his body and nauseous. Another cat, an apprentice he didn't have a name for, said his name. Bloodstrike's ears pricked forward and his eyes were set upon her in an instant, hard and cold. He didn't feel pain like he was used to. Now that he was aware of his surroundings more, he didn't have quite the outburst that he'd had with Copperfox. Once a few heartbeats had passed and none of the cats attacked him, the tension in his body eased.

"I'm sorry." He apologized, though to no one in particular. "I'm tired. I don't want to socialize right now." His tone was flat and his eyes softened until they were world-weary once more. He glanced at another apprentice aged she-cat asking about her father. He didn't know this one. He didn't know what to tell her. If he hadn't come back then he was probably.... wait. Blue eyes... He felt like he suddenly knew whose kit this was. He sighed and turned his gaze away from her. He didn't want to ask to confirm. He didn't want to know. He wanted to be left alone to sleep.

Bloodstrike's eyes went back on the forest floor below him, he trudged forward, dragging his toes across the leaves as his head hung low. He'd always carried himself with strong confidence, but today he couldn't care less what he looked like. Relying on fuzzy memory, he hesitated a moment in front of the medicine den. This was where he needed to go... right? It seemed like it. After a moment of thinking, he shuffled his way into it and settled down somewhat stiffly in the nest.

Once that was done... Bloodstrike stared off into space, focusing on nothing in particular. If anything, he was happy to be away from the sun.

"I ache everywhere," He spoke up after a moment, remembering that he needed to tell Beechface what was going on with him. "My stomach hurts, my head hurts, I'm thirsty all of the time. I don't even care about eating most days." His blank stare eventually refocused on Beechface, but there was still some appearance that he was looking through her than at her.

"Sorry daughter. I don't know how fixable I am." He shifted around in the nest many times. No matter what position he tried to lay in, he couldn't get comfortable. Maybe the nest was too soft... maybe he should have lie on a rock. His agitation grew and his heart began to race out of control again.

Suddenly being in a small space gave him anxiety.

Bloodstrike thankfully followed her to the medicine den with little complaint, though he did hesitate for a moment in front of the entrance. He looked almost... Unsure.

He spoke, and Beechface was already turning towards her herbs, ears rotating in Bloodstrike's direction as he shifted in the nest. He'd been gone since the night Asylum had shown up, moons ago. Blossomstep looked awful and she hadn't been gone nearly as long. Evidently, the Asylum hardly even did the bare minimum for their captives. At least she didn't have to prod for what her father was feeling, he gave the information willingly.

And didn't that say more about his state than a quick once-over would gain her. Her father had never been one to admit weakness, and he never spoke in such a tone, either. Beechface pulled together a small pile of herbs. Everything he told her made her think he wouldn't be capable of stomaching much else... And she had little desire to find out just what he could or couldn't keep down. Willow bark would help him keep down anything she gave him, thyme, feverfaw... They would ease the pain he was in, take the edge off of nausea and ease the mind. He was shifting around... Restless? Anxious? If he'd been cooped up for so long that he didn't even like the sunlight, she could only guess at what else he was feeling. As if his panicked response to Copperfox calling his name hadn't been enough of an indicator.

"Yeah... You look..." Terrible. Her father looked terrible. The scarred medicine cat sighed. She set the tiny pile of herbs in front of him and turned, picking up a mossball and soaking it.

"Eat those, and drink. Slowly." The last was said in warning as she returned to his side with the mossball. It was on the tip of her tongue to say more. To yell at him being gone for so long. She'd told him not to play martyr, and he'd done it anyways. She could've ranted about the Asylum's treatment of him and Blossomstep, and the clan, vented her frustrations about Dawnhawk (and stars, Bloodstrike hadn't been here, he hadn't witnessed the atrocities that Dawnhawk had committed; if he had been here, he would have put a stop to it.)

The medicine cat pulled back, yellow-green eyes watching her father for a moment. Tattered ears, scarred muzzle (scarred everything, more like,) the dull, blank stare... He hardly looked like the same cat from before the Asylum had gotten their filthy paws on him.

"I'll... Spare you a lecture. You need rest, dad." Rest, food and far more help than she was capable of, she thought. Welcome home, dad.

Quietkit let out a soft yawn, as the voices of the older cats woke her up. What were they talking about? And why were they so happy? The five moon old she-kit got up, making extra sure, that she wouldn't disturb her siblings- Larchkit, and her mom. She padded towards the entrance of the nursery, and tilted her head. "What's going on?" She asked shyly, her voice quiet and meek. The young she-kit was confused, as to what was going on.

Primroselight jolted awake when she heard he brother's voice ringing across camp and immediately thought the worst. If she was honest, she had never quite slept as well as she had before Asylum had arrived, especially after Muddypaw had been born. Not only did she not trust them one tiny bit, but being attacked in your sleep whilst recovering from an injury had stuck with her. Whilst her brain was running through every terrible possibility of what had happened, it took her a little time to realise what was actually going on. It was only when she rushed out the den that it finally hit her.

Bloodstrike.

Alive and breathing, accompanied by Blossomstep. But he soon made it clear that he wasn't the same deputy who had fought back moons ago. She flinched slightly as he yelled at Copperfox. What did they do to you Dad? Almost everything about him was slightly off. He had been to the Dark Forest and back, that was clear, and it would take a while for him to readjust to clan life.

"Mum?" Muddypaw's voice pulled her out of the pool of thought she had fallen into without even realising. "Are you alright? Who is that?" The fluffy apprentice asked, confused at everyone's reaction. It comforted him slightly to know that Jaypaw had a similar reaction, but there was something in Primroselight's eyes that made it clear to him she knew what was going on. When he didn't immediately get an answer, he pressed against her gently as a sign of comfort, trying to make the situation better, even if he didn't have a clue what was happening.

Primroselight wrapped her tail around her son, and swallowed before she spoke. "Th-that's your grandfather. Bloodstrike."

Muddypaw didn't know what he was expecting as an answer, but it certainly wasn't that. Even though he wouldn't say it out loud, he was surprised to be related to someone who looked so... broken. But he probably wasn't always like that. Not from the stories I've heard.

The days had passed in a blur since Blossomstep's disappearance. He'd long grown used to sleeping alone, patrolling alone, just... in general being alone, the same way he'd been before Blossomstep. But he could watch her from afar, make sure she was safe, protected, even if she didn't want anything to do with him. Now, though... he was in the dark. She was gone, and he couldn't even LOOK for her without the stars-cursed Asylum cats breathing down his neck. Wolfstar had given up, become the pliable, obedient pseudo-leader that he was sure they wanted in the first place... because he was out of fight, now. They'd beaten it out of him without laying another claw to his pelt... torn his willpower asunder by stripping him one by one of the cats he would fight the hardest for.

The Asylum was winning. They HAD won.

The SkyClan leader had become a dark, silent statue, belly-down against the cool stone floor of his den. This morning, he'd managed to drag himself to the entrance, lazing in a patch of cold sunlight that soaked into his thin, stress-patched pelt. At first, the voices didn't register to him, just a hazy background noise that faded into obscurity the same way he had. But then, they grew louder, harsher for a moment, and Wolfstar opened his eyes. A group of battle scarred cats had pulled themselves into the camp, and his eyes landed on them each in turn. Ravenclaw, Blossomstep, Bloodstrike. The dark tom's breath caught in his throat, and in an instant he was on his paws, ambergold eyes wide in shock and disbelief. He... they...

Wolfstar remained silent, his mouth slightly agape, and his body flooded with more energy than he'd felt in moons. And it was then that the words finally registered... the Asylum had fallen... they were free. He half-registered the remaining Asylum cats' reactions, uncertain glances at each other, a defensive stance here and there in case SkyClan chose to attack, before finally, most of them just fled. But they were no longer his concern. Right now, his one track mind was flipping between his mate and his son, both of whom he was sure he'd never see again. The leader watched as the massive scarred tom was whisked away to the medicine den, and it was then that he was released from his stupor by a jolt of adrenaline that sent him leaping down from the mouth of his den. Wolfstar didn't hesitate, he moved to Blossomstep's side, blatantly ignoring the voice in the back of his head that was telling him not to. His voice was low, only for her, "I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered, pressing his shoulder into hers for the briefest of moments. "And... he's... he's ALIVE. Our son is alive."

Blossomstep thought she had been exhausted after the battle, but the walk from Fourtrees was a challenge unlike any she had ever experienced. Even the journey back from her first battle at Fourtrees against the Righteous Few didn't match the intensity of this one, despite the looming fear of Spottedstar's wrath looming over the first one. SkyClan territory, despite the charred remnants of the fire that had consumed the trees and land, had never looked so beautiful as it did now. She hadn't been certain she would see it again, but as they neared camp her excitement, and nervousness, grew. The body of the ThunderClan tom laying still, with his mate next to it, kept swimming in her mind. She couldn't shake the thought of the tom instead being Wolfstar, and either herself or another she-cat settled next to his unmoving body. She wasn't sure that things could go back to the way they had been, but she knew she wanted to at least make amends... And maybe try again, depending on his reaction. As they entered the camp, a familiar voice called out their names, and Blossomstep smiled slightly as she recognized Copperfox. Bloodstrike tensed next to her, and she laid her tail over his back as he lashed out blindly, quietly murmuring to him. His fury didn't last long thankfully, and soon Beechface was making her way towards them quickly. Nudging her granddaughter's shoulder in a warm greeting, she shook her head slightly. "I can't go yet, Beechface, though I promise I will be there soon. I need to see Wolfstar."

Bloodstrike spoke once again, but this time his new was tired, holding no trace of the rage that had just bursted from him moments before. He left her side, moving towards the medicine cat den with Beechface behind him, and Blossomstep reassured her once more that she would be there shortly. She turned to look for Wolfstar when a sudden presence at her side filled her with joy, and the brief touch of their shoulder brought a kittish grin to her face. He pulled away far too quickly, however, and Blossomstep closed the distance between them again, tucking her head against his chest and under the leader's chin. "He is. I told you he would be... I'm sorry, for everything. I never wanted to go. Dawnhawk... The patrol was a trick, a trap. I don't know why, or what I did.... But there were too many. I didn't want to leave...I hope you know that." She pulled away slightly, meeting his eyes with her own, a solemn expression on her face. "The battle wasn't without loss, Wolfstar... A ThunderClan warrior perished along with Asylum's leader. Looking at his body... Oh Wolfstar, I kept seeing you. I couldn't imagine life without you, and I... Oh stars, Wolfstar, I'm sorry. For everything." Tears welled in the she-cat's eyes, and her tail hung low as she lowered her head, dropping the eye contact. She figured she looked absolutely miserable, matted fur clinging to a thin frame. Would Wolfstar even accept her, after everything? Or was it too little too late? Perhaps she should have just followed Beechface....

The words that poured unbidden from Blossomstep's mouth were words Wolfstar thought he'd never hear again, and as the she-cat pressed into his chest, the leader let his eyes drift closed. For just the briefest of moments, everything was right with the world, and then the scent of blood on her coat brought him back to reality. "You... you have nothing to apologize for, Blossomstep, I... I should have... Nevermind... we can talk about this later," he shook his head and pulled away, moving around her in a half-circle and inspecting her for wounds. "You should see Beechface."

Wolfstar wound his tail with hers, leading her gently towards the medicine cat's den. He paused just outside, heart thrumming in his chest. Would Bloodstrike even want to see him? Would his son hate him for what he'd done, like so many others in the clan did?

Himbo Bob startled with alarm as cats came running into the clearing, ready to leap to defend the nursery, terrified of losing Ashstorm or one of his kits like he had Sneezingkit. Until he heard what they'd said.

"Dead... As in, you killed her?" He whispered, shock, but not sorrow or anger, on his face. Then as he saw Bloodstrike, horror flooded his gaze. "I-I didn't know they treated the stolen cats like that.." It was clear by the sound of his voice, and the terror in his eyes, the tom was sincere in his words. "Where's Ashstorm? Is she safe? She- She didn't fight, did she?" Fear flooded his eyes as he hurled himself at the nursery, content at finding Ashstorm there. Then he saw Quietkit, his daughter. "Delilah, get inside the nursery. Now. You don't need to see this, sweetheart." He mewed, gentle, but stern.

Wait.

It seemed, finally, it dawned on him that he, in fact, was Asylum.

And Asylum were fleeing.

But..

No. He'd promised Ashstorm. He wouldn't leave her, no matter what. Which meant... "Whitescar! Please, I can't leave! My family is here-- I promised Ashstorm I wouldn't leave her! A-and my kits! I'll be loyal to FlyClan, Ashstorm's already been teaching me about StarClan and the warrior code in secret-- please, I'll do anything. Just, please, please, don't make me leave!" Himbo Bob bowed his head, practically kneeling before Whitescar, FlyClan's leader, begging for his acceptance.

Every word he spoke was true. As long as Ashstorm and his family were here, he couldn't leave. He just couldn't.