unsettling aftermath [open - read note before posting]

ooc; kitefire has fled the battle before it ended, dragging her kit, flypaw, with her! for the start of this topic, only kite, fly, and cats who stayed home are able to post. once maple posts with ivy leading the rest of the patrol back, all of those cats may post.

At some point, the bleeding had stopped. It had caked to the russet she-cat's coat, almost indiscernible from the rest of her coat, other from the uncomfortable way that the blood crusted her pelt. Once they reached the river, the cold water was a welcome shock. Kitefire felt her strength being sapped from her tiny frame. She pressed on and attempted to nudge her kit along too. The way he had been conflicted about leaving the rest of their patrol behind sparked measures of pride in her chest, as equally at it caused venomous disdain. Admittedly, it bothered the she-cat, with her own frail and shaking allegiances, to think that Flypaw might find himself more loyal to the clan he had been born into above his own mother in any sense.

"Come on now, we're almost there." Her nose prodded his sodden dark coat. Within sightline was the camp, the place where she'd been allowed to shelter after leaving Thunderclan behind. Admittedly, there was guilt wriggling about in the pits of her stomach. This was exactly the kind of act that Ivystar had been looking to pick apart by making her part of the patrol. Kitefire clenched her teeth until her jaw would go no tighter. Maybe bringing Flypaw was a test as well. After all, Ivystar knew little of what it meant to care for a son. She drew closer to the apprentice as they parted the reeds and padded into clearing.

As expected, cats milled about, unable to sleep. She sought out Jayshriek and prodded Flypaw in the direction of the medicine cat's den. Leaning into the familiar comfort of her mate's pelt, the she-cat let out a shaky breath. Twin pools of yellow light glanced about the sparse crowd, daring any of them to interrupt, and constantly flickering towards the entrance. Any moment, Riverclan's leader would return to camp having realized their missing clanmates. Any moment she would have to face her mate's mother. Kitefire was tired of running but the one thing she could never outrun was her own nature.

Swanpaw had not taken her eyes off of the camp's entrance. Swanpaw didn't know why, her mother stayed home and her father was here just in case camp was attacked. It was cute really, her parents protecting each other. But, still, she couldn't take her eyes off of the entrance to camp, like she was expecting something to come out. Swanpaw hadn't been thinking about cats ambushing camp. Why would they? They can fight at Windclan, they don't need to attack Riverclan.

So, it was a surprise when cats started walking in, she thought that they were from Skyclan originally so she unsheathed her claws instinctively, but at a closer look, they were indeed from Riverclan and the snow-white she-cat didn't have to worry. She waved her tail towards them as a welcome back but wondered where the rest of her clan was.

Heronpaw was sitting in the middle of camp. Physically, she was in RiverClan, but the gray-and-white tabby knew that she wasn't really here. Starlingpaw's influence pushed her further and further away from her birth clan, and she hated the feeling. Still, the she-cat longed to see him again, something she wasn't really used to feeling. What would her father think, her mother, her siblings? Flypaw would hate her, for sure. Maybe her parents would be understanding, as they were both in a forbidden relationship before. But at the same time, was she really selfish enough to indulge in a relationship with another cat, divide her loyalties into two clans?

Her mother returning with Flypaw seemed to be the perfect distraction for her. "Hey, mom," she said, smiling at the two cats. "How was the battle?" Before she could say anything else, she noticed something odd about them. They were here, but nobody else was. Her warm smile turned to a look of concern when she realized that the two cats also seemed to look weak and weary. "Is Flypaw okay? What happened there?" Ivystar and the others... couldn't have all died, right? Didn't Ivystar have several lives left still? There's no way that SkyClan would murder Ivystar and the other cats there like that... right?

The dilute calico tom only had a second to peddle back as a figure rushed back into camp with a slightly smaller form in tow. The she-cat -who he'd heard was a Thunderclanner before coming to Riverclan to be with her mate- he recalled being named Kitefire and the young apprentice he kinda forgot the name of, who was probably her son. Was it Frogpaw? Maybe Firpaw? He was still getting used to seeing all these new faces so forgetting names wasn't unusual for him. Anyway, that wasn't important right then anyway. He felt slight relief knowing that some of his clanmates had returned from battle. Did that mean it was over and the rest weren't far behind? Yellow-green eyes scanned the path from where Kitefire came from but had no luck spotting or even hearing the rest of the group. That made his stomach churn uncomfortably. Were they okay? Was Ivy okay? He needed answers and he needed them now.

The warrior turned and rushed up to the ex-Thunderclanner and faced her with worry wrinkling his face. "Where are the others? If you're both here, that should mean that the battle's over. So, where are they? Do they need reinforcements? I can go and give those birdmunchers a piece of my mind if they went too far in the battle." he growled as his tail lashed with fury and growing anger, claws raking the ground as he attempted to calm himself as best as he could.

Nightwolf lay in his nest, sleeping rather well despite there possibly being a battle happening. He had thought that Riverclan could take down those Skyclan cats with ease.

The sound of cats woke him up, as his amber eyes peered out of the warriors den. He noticed Kitefire, and Flypaw were back, but no sigh of the other Riverclan cats. Weird. He thought. Maybe they had finished the battle really quickly, and Kitefire and Flypaw were sent to scout ahead? Yea that made some sense. But not too much. Maybe he should ask Kitefire. She would know since she was at the battle.

Getting up from his next, Nightwolf padded over to Kitefire, waving his tail in greeting. "Hiya Kitefire! How was the battle? I hope it didn't end to badly. Also everyone will be here soon, right?" Nightwolf meowed, bearing a friendly and welcoming smile.

Flypaw’s limp faded somewhere between WindClan’s camp and the border; it’d only been a bite, after all. His other wounds refused to be talked down. At one of the river’s few dark patches, he brushed the blood-crust off of his belly and watched it wash downstream, but that only made the stinging worse. Fortunately, he had other things to focus on. His mother’s warm, solid presence at his side took up half of his brain; he’d left the other half on the moor. Where he was supposed to be. Where he should have wanted to be. But he was too tired to be a warrior right now, and too tired to forgive himself for that.

Kitefire pressed her nose to his fur. Hunching his shoulders against the cold and the first glimpse of RiverClan’s towering walls, he plodded onward. They pushed through the reeds—Kitefire first, Flypaw trailing behind—and into camp, to be met by a sea of worried faces. Questions poured out of every mouth but Swanpaw’s (and even she went tense for a second as they walked in, confusion apparent in her eyes), what happened and where are the others and how was the battle. None of them were directed at Flypaw. His ears flattened anyway. He didn’t snap, exactly—he wasn’t awake enough for that—but the words scalded his throat on their way up. “It’s still going.”

Just like that, it was out in the open. They’d left. Ivystar had chosen them, and they’d left, and everything Flypaw had half-felt during the long walk home was bubbling to the surface in full force. His family was here. His mentor was here. Left with no other options, he turned on his heel—a wound near his foreleg tore, just a little—and fled toward Spiderquill’s den.

ooc: mobile, no color 4 u

Loonwhisper was quickly on the scene, breaking with hesitation from his fixed point gazing up at the cloud cover at the sound of intrusion. Kitefire, who Ivystar had insisted should come, was towing along her young son... seemingly having fled far enough ahead of the rest of the battle patrol that there was no sign of the remaining clanmates anywhere. Loonwhisper was far from a skeptic, and knowing that they were treading dangerous water by even aiding WindClan in the first place, thought that the pair might be coming with an urgent message. Perhaps reinforcements were needed. Maybe the death toll was higher than imagined. It may be that they had lost.

Instead, Flypaw shattered his illusion of sureness, of Kitefire's message of ill-tiding. He should have known, he chastised himself, that Ivystar wouldn't send those two of all cats to RiverClan's camp alone. The small black tom, clearly injured, shouted out his meek admission of guilt, and promptly fled for Spiderquill's den.

Loonwhisper pointed his wide owl eyes at the outsider before him, before the most deadpan of accusations fell with a dullness from his lips. Mewing just loud enough to demand the attention of the swarming RiverClan camp, he uttered, "Has he inherited this cowardice, Kitefire? Or did you teach him with a patient and steady paw?"

Turtlefur got to his paws quickly, shaking off the tiredness that weighed his lids down. His apprentice, Flypaw, had returned to camp. However, only he and his mother were back. No other RiverClan reinforcements had returned. The warrior didn't bother to ask what had happened as most of his still-awake Clanmates had already beaten him to it. With Flypaw's answer came a murmur of shock and Loonwhisper's scathing reply to Kitefire. Turtlefur knew the implications of leaving the battle before it ended, but his concern far outweighed any disappointment that may have briefly bubbled up. Instead, he trotted swiftly after his apprentice and left the crowd behind.

"Flypaw?" He murmured, peering into the medicine cat's den. Flypaw's scent was clouded with blood and fear, and a red tint had been visible on his apprentice's dark fur. His apprentice hadn't acted cowardly at all. "I saw the blood on your pelt. Are you okay?" Of course his first concern was the health and safety of the young tom. That was his primary responsibility, and he regretted having been kept home while his apprentice marched off to fight in someone else's war. Whether he had left earlier than was warranted wasn't a real concern to Turtlefur. Loonwhisper and Ivystar would be handled appropriately when the time came.

Hot anger boiled in the pit of Ivystar’s stomach as she led the rest of the battle patrol home, with four fewer cats than she’d originally left with. Cloverpaw remained in WindClan camp, unable to make the journey back home after being mauled by SkyClan’s soulless leader. Mountainheart had been drug back to SkyClan by her blood family, and as much as Ivystar hated it- Beechface was right, and it was her wish to return. With Sneezingpaw missing there was such little left for Mountainheart in RiverClan, and Ivystar had noticed long ago. The final two missing cats were the first thing that the silver tabby laid eyes on as she stormed back into camp, tail lashing. Her emerald eyes were locked on Kitefire, her lack of wounds and Flypaw by her side a clear indication of what had taken place. She made her way to the center of camp and sat down, narrowed eyes remaining on the petite she-car before her. “Dare I even ask the motive behind your treason, Kitefire?” A low growl had begun to build up in her throat, and it took everything the she-cat had not to unleash it.

Despite the wholly unfriendly look across her features, and the withdrawn positioning of her body, it seemed that no cat left in Riverclan's camp cared. She clenched her jaw tight, until it would tense no further and the muscles threatened to snap. It was only natural they wanted to know the condition of their clanmates who had gone off to battle but the last thing she want to do was offer up such knowledge. What would she say? Telling the truth was not an option. Kitefire wanted to bite her tongue in half, perhaps that would stave off the circling vultures.

Heronpaw came forward, a welcome sight that drew a flicker of a smile. But the questions dashed it away. Instead of responding to her kit, the little warrior drew the apprentice close and stretched to lick the top of Heronpaw's forehead without a word. As Robinpatch approached, her nose wrinkled as if he'd stuck mousebile underneath her maw. Whiskers twitched and her tail lashed. When speech finally came, it was tight and drawn, restraining many things behind her voice, "Calm down, Robinpatch. They'll be back shortly." I'm sure of it. The russet she-cat told herself that she had played her part in driving off a tom on the opposing side. It had never been hers or Flypaw's battle to fight. But regardless.

Something that was vaguely reminiscent of guilt twisted in her stomach for a brief moment before she swallowed away the acid at the back of her throat. Thankfully the ever cheery Nightwolf popped in with a greeting. How he could be so chipper at such a moment escaped her, perhaps it was because the warrior would never know the constant churning that had settled underneath her pelt so many moons ago. She offered him a weak smile and nodded stiffly. What little effort had been used to respond to the other warrior seemed to be overwhelmingly draining. She wanted to sink into a moss-lined nest, one free of reeds, and sleep for endless seasons.

She stiffened instantly at Flypaw's words, wanting to flinch at his tone. Surely the apprentice wasn't mad at her from dragging him out of harm's way? The idea drew forth more sour flavors across her tongue. The desire to say something, to go after him, was overwhelming but her paws seemed to fight against movement. That was until Loonwhisper spoke. Kitefire's fur bristled and her teeth clenched. It was by sheer will that she managed to not yowl at the clan's deputy. With a lashing tail and through gritted teeth, she ground out a reply, "My son is no coward." There was more bubbling up from her maw but it was interrupted by movement at the camp entrance. Dread grew more condemning by the second. The rest of the battle patrol had returned.

Ivystar had immediately fixed her with a displeased stare. With fur still bristled and coat fluffed indignantly, the tiny she-cat almost looked a tad larger underneath the pale moonlight. She'd intended to spit more fire at the leader and yet her tone fell flat, "I was caring for my kit, Ivystar. I know the concept might seem outlandish to you but the life of my offspring means something to me."

Flypaw was still deciding which wall to press himself into when the brush of footsteps behind him caught his ears. “I’m fine.” Snarling at his mentor only drew the knot of shame tighter. He shifted on his paws without thinking, winced at his wounds’ next round of protests, and slid down until he was sitting. “Just sore. And tired, and my head kind of hurts.” He went quiet for a heartbeat, steeling his courage. Then he peeked over his shoulder. Despite his mother’s efforts to shield him from it, Flypaw had learned what judgment looked like very early on; it was hard not to when certain cats eyed him and Heronpaw less like future warriors and more like dogs straining on leashes. He searched Turtlefur’s face with narrowed, hesitant eyes. “I—I fought.” It came out soft and pleading. “I promise I fought, I did everything the way you taught me! But then Mom said we had to go, and…”

A new voice rang out, effortlessly piercing the den’s woven walls. For how violently Flypaw twitched, Ivystar might as well have roared the battle patrol’s return. He wondered if she'd washed the blood off her fur. At least Turtlefur hadn’t moved much. As long as he stood in the den’s entranceway, Flypaw wouldn't have to face his leader. Relief and gratitude surfaced over the turmoil, struggled, slipped under. Wouldn't have to face her yet. His nose dropped until he was staring at his paws, watching himself bat at his twitching tail. ”…Am I gonna get exiled?” To a cat who had never even left camp without permission, it made sense. Warriors, even warriors-in-training, didn't run.

The warrior’s ears flicked back against his head when Flypaw snapped at him. He just wanted to help. When Flypaw looked up at him and protested that he’d fought, Turtlefur lifted a paw to take a step towards him. But he set it back down. The younger tom looked like he didn’t want anyone near him. Turtlefur didn’t want to be snarled at again. He stayed in the den’s opening despite the ringing of Ivystar’s angered voice.

“Exiled? No, of course not!” He meowed, shocked at the thought and a bit ruffled. Ivystar wouldn’t be so cruel… right? “You… you aren’t Kitefire or Jayshriek. Maybe Ivystar doesn’t like them very much, but you don’t deserve to have anyone think less of you because of that. You’re RiverClan through and through. I know you did your best. I’ve never seen you do less than that. I’ll make Ivystar and Loonwhisper see that, I promise. I really promise.” He finally dared to take that step forward. Flypaw wasn’t alone, he’d make sure he knew.

“I know you fought. Maybe the others don’t, though. But some of the cats on the patrol had to have seen you. And running from the argument going on outside won’t help; we should go see Ivystar together, and make her see the truth instead of letting her anger decide how she sees things. Isn’t that better?”