[Phoenix]

YOU’VE HELD YOUR HEAD UP. YOU’VE FOUGHT THE FIGHT.

Hidden but for the blue and gold of her eyes, the she-cat picked her way elegantly through the snow drifts. Brilliant white fur of a slightly-longer-than-average length protected her from the worst of the wind as it raced through the evergreens, but she still found the prospect of a sheltered nest at the end of a cold, fruitless day rather heartening. After the loss – literally, she mused with dark humor – of Daypaw, an air of desperation had fallen over the clan; with leaf-bare having stolen away all of their prey and their stores beyond low, they had already known what could happen, but when it did, their earlier predictions did little to protect them from the shock. She had never been particularly close to Daypaw, had perhaps spoken to the young apprentice only a few times during his/her short life. As a result, she was not nearly as devastated as some of her clan members, whom she watched numbly go about their duties with distant sympathy. It was hard losing a family member. Their pain was one with which she was intimately familiar, and yet she still found herself thinking of how lucky they were. They knew that Daypaw was not coming back with dreadful certainty; they did not have to hold on to dwindling hope and fading faith for seasons.

In the end, Hazeheart had returned, thin and underweight, but wonderfully alive, and it was then that she discovered that even a closed wound could still leave a scar. She worried about her brother, and in this weather, his narcolepsy could cause another disaster. No cat could sit still too long – they needed the heat generated by exercise to keep warm – and if something happened and he ended up collapsed in the snow… She brushed the thought from her mind. She and Darkblaze had lost Hazeheart once. They certainly were not going to let it happen again.

The young she-cat swept past the large pile of snow that marked the entrance to the camp and ducked inside. Immediately, the air felt warmer, and the ghost of a smile touched her lips as she enjoyed the luxury of being sheltered from the elements. Her paws directed her onto the familiar path toward the warrior’s den, where she intended to settle down in her nest and remove the ice and snow that clumped on her fur. Sensible enough to know the dangers and discomforts of a wet nest, however, she stopped just outside the entrance and settled herself down. Looking down, she began to groom her chest fur, licking up the snowflakes that melted awkwardly on her tongue. All around her, cats, bedraggled and defeated, went about their evening duties, and she could very easily see just how low morale was in camp. Her faith in StarClan had vanished long ago – specifically around the time her brother had done the same – but it had since stayed gone, unable to be rekindled even with his return. She remembered the initial sense of betrayal at the prospect of being forsaken by her starry ancestors, and the emptiness and confusion as it tipped her world on its side. They had thought she looked haunted and offered comfort without really comprehending. Looking around at the ghosts her clan mates had become, she thought now that maybe they finally understood.

Brightfeather | NightClan | Warrior | Dust to Dust – The Civil Wars

YOU BEAR THE SCARS. YOU’VE DONE YOUR TIME.

Hellion

[Hellion]

Gracklefire

---

The ebony coated she-cat had seen many leafbares in her life and remembered all too well the sharpness of hunger pains. Her body and sunken in. Her coat lacked shine and her paws felt heavier. She wasn't really sure the last time she had eaten and perhaps it was longer than she thought. Instead of attempting to hunt for prey that wasn't there, Gracklefire had made herself useful in camp. She might not feel strong enough but the mental determination of this senior was enough to ensure the camp was well tended to. The walls needed reinforcing, nests needed to be remade. The death of that apprentice was enough to make duties pile up with no one to do them.

Her flame colored eyes studies her handiwork on fixing the nursery wall. Some snow had fallen and begun to drip inside the shelter, Gracklefire hated the idea of kits getting ill from the damp and fixed it promptly. She felt like lingering a moment longer to take in the sweet scent of milk and new life but knew that it would only bring more sadness. Her beloved mate would never help her bring in more lives into NightClan, she would remain barren until her death. A thought that only made his passing worse.

Almost a year had past since Roughthroat's death and still the ebony she-cat mourned for him. Not so much with wailing to the stars but with the constant sadness in her eyes and longing looks toward where he used to sleep beside her, a spot taken up by her kits who were now welcome in the warrior's den.

Feeling the weariness of working, Gracklefire decided on a nap or rest, something to distract her from her hunger. When her black paws found the well worn path to the warrior's den she paused in mid stride as the site of Brightfeather caught her attention.

The snow-colored she-cat had been grooming her pelt. It reminded the older she-cat of her own unkempt coat but didn't stir her forth to do anything about it. Instead she sat beside the she-cat in company and turned her eyes toward her with a stern look about her.

"As a clan we won't surive eating nothing but tiny frogs, there must be some other prey elsewhere." This was not a conventional start to a conversation, this was the start of a plan to ensure NightClan surived.

---

All you have is your fire,
And the place you need to reach
Don't you ever tame your demons,
But always keep 'em on a leash...

Phoenix

[Insidious]

"What did you have in mind?" He cooed, the golden tom rounding on Brightfeather to settle at Gracklefire's side - a little too close for comfort but, of course, Sandviper didn't notice. His green eyes, intense, focused, trailed the length of the she-cat's body before finally resting in her own amber, attraction but a fleeting thought in his head. Since Ravenstar had died, he felt lost, like his other half was missing, but perhaps, for Gracklefire, it was the same. He recalled her relationship with Roughthroat, the kittens they brought into NightClan together; Sandviper had sadly never had that chance with Ravenstar before she passed.

But Roughthroat was gone now, wasn't he?

"If there's anyway to keep our clanmates from suffering this leafbare, you can count me in." His eyes flashed, pulling his lips away from his teeth in a gruesome smile. "I'm at your bidding." For a moment, just one, he had forgotten about Ravenstar, and he loved the sensation of freedom that washed over him. If there was anything he could do to make Gracklefire happy, to help her reach whatever goal she had in mind for NightClan, he would do it - and, as a sudden afterthought, so would she.

His attention turned to Brightfeather, then, curious of her take on what Gracklefire was inferring to. Surely, if the pretty black she-cat had went out of her way to approach Brightfeather, she wanted her to participate for some reason, and Sandviper intended to see to it that Gracklefire got what she wanted to have. "You would do whatever it takes to ensure NightClan's success this season, no?" The slender tom phrased it as a question, but there was something about the look on his face - a tight lipped smile, a dangerous glint in his eyes - that didn't leave room for an unpleasant answer.

Hellion & Phoenix

[Phoenix]

YOU’VE HELD YOUR HEAD UP. YOU’VE FOUGHT THE FIGHT.

A pale head lifted and a pair of eyes, one blue and one gold, gazed neutrally at the speaker. She recognized Gracklefire almost instantly, the older she-cat having existed long before Brightfeather herself had even been a glint in her parents’ eyes. Flicking an ear, she tilted her head slightly to the side as she considered the other she-cat’s words. Though not overtly mutinous, the carefully worded statements clearly held an ulterior meaning, and it did not take a genius to figure out what the ebony feline had almost certainly suggested. That she had come to Brightfeather suggested that she was – wisely – searching for a companion.

How did the alabaster warrior feel about the implications?

She was not entirely sure when she had given the impression that she would break their treasured Code, though she was fairly confident that she had never quite suggested that she wouldn’t not. In truth, she was relatively indifferent to the whole matter – but the arrival of a third warrior derailed her train of thought. Brightfeather had always counted herself among the far more perceptive cats of her clan, and this heightened awareness of her clan mates was a double-edged sword, both a gift and a curse; there were cats in their clan – only a few – who were off in a way that she could not quite describe. Something about them was different, and it, along with her inability to describe the strange, visceral feeling, was altogether unnerving. Sandviper was one of those cats. As a result, she avoided him more often than not, preferring to avoid his company in favor of that of slightly less peculiar companions.

Though she doubted that he cared, the tom certainly did little to change her opinion of him. Gold and blue caught the motion of his eyes as he traced Gracklefire’s figure, and she tried to hide the slight shudder that caused her fur to prickle. He was a creep, and he was inviting himself to whatever the older warrior might have started planning. Brightfeather was not overly thrilled, and she looked back at Gracklefire, wondering if she had a similar reaction to one of NightClan’s most prized fighters.

The sound of Sandviper’s slippery voice, now directed toward her, had the young warrior turning her head from the midnight-furred she-cat to their companion. What she saw there had her recoiling ever so slightly. The touch of steel that had laced his words suggested that she pick her answer with care, and ice trickled down her spine as she held his gaze, searching – for what, she didn’t know. Containing a hint of danger, the faint expression on his face seemed to dare her to respond with anything except what he wanted. Never had she found herself on the receiving end of this tom’s attentions – not like this – and she decided that she did not like the well-hidden hostility. She would have to tread carefully. “Any loyal warrior would.” Unblinking, she stared at him a moment longer, as if challenging him, in turn, to comment on the evasiveness of her answer, before shifting her attention back to Gracklefire.

Brightfeather had few qualms about breaking the Warrior Code if it would benefit her or those few she let behind her walls. Her eyes flicked toward the pathetic excuse for a fresh-kill pile that sat pitifully in the middle of camp. Survival sat at the forefront of every warrior’s mind, including her own, and maintaining her current status of alive and relatively healthy was becoming increasingly challenging as prey continued to elude their warriors’ claws. “NightClan would certainly benefit from more prey.”

Brightfeather | NightClan | Warrior | Dust to Dust – The Civil Wars

YOU BEAR THE SCARS. YOU’VE DONE YOUR TIME.

Hellion Insidious

[Hellion]

Gracklefire

---

He spoke out of turn and brought Gracklefire's amber colored eyes to meet his gaze. As the golden tom took a spot unusually close to Gracklefire the she-cant leaned away from him a little. She had been alive for quite some time and wasn't a fool, Sandviper had other intenions. She knew very little of the warrior but she did trust her instinicts enough to keep her guard up even if he seemed friendly.

If what continued to say wasn't strange enough it was his comment about being 'at her bidding' that urged the she-cat to seek eye contact with Brightfeather. Perhaps Gracklefire could put up barriers with the tom but it didn't hurt to have extra she-cat power if the time came.

"Good to know," She stated mostly out of awkwardness at what he had said, the smile making her uneasy. She had spent plenty of time mourning over Roughthroat and while she'd likely never love again and never carry kits again, Gracklefire wasn't opposed to the idea of having a friendly pelt to nest beside. However, the likelihood that it would be Sandviper's golden pelt was little if any. She'd rather die then be romantic with him in any sense of the word.

Hearing the question geared toward the pretty Brightfeather. Gracklefire knew that if the fellow she-cat didn't agree their unspoken plan would be forgotten, Sandviper was perhaps too forward for the older she-cat's taste. There was that added comfort in knowing the Brightfeather at least shared in her cause. It would take a few well chosen words to get both warriors on track with her plan. She hadn't been one in the past to steal from other Clans, her sense of duty had kept her on the right path of a warrior. Yet like most of her Clanmates she hated going hungry and hated even more seeing young cats cry out from hunger. The former queen would do anything to ensure those growing in this harsh Leafbare would have the chance to see Newleaf.

"I suggest we all take a trip to the border, ensure there isn't much going on," She kept her words light and vague. Any passing ears would just assume that the trio was in fact doing their duty for NightClan and not plotting. The safety of her Clan weighend

---

All you have is your fire,
And the place you need to reach
Don't you ever tame your demons,
But always keep 'em on a leash...

[Insidious]

Brightfeather's answer only deepened his smile, because despite the semblance of a challenge in her eyes, she had ultimately consented, and that was exactly what he had expected of her. Gracklefire spoke, then, and her voice seemed to tie around him like a rope and pull him in. There was no missing the way she leaned away from him, trying to distance herself but inevitably failing because closeness was something that he could work around with great ease. He could be as much hers, and she could be as much his, from afar as they could side by side, and it was only a matter of time before that simple truth became the center of her universe, too. That was the easy way. There was a hard way, and it tended to be more fun for someone of his tastes. He was already growing impatient of finding out which one she would choose.

"The RainClan border it is, hm? Tensions are already high - as per usual - with TreeClan, so it's presumable we would have better luck with our other neighbours." He looked to either she-cat briefly for confirmation, but it was Gracklefire, above all, that he would listen to. If she agreed that RainClan was their best hope, then he would travel alongside her to the border in a state of complete happiness for having shared their first train of thought. If she chose TreeClan, however, he would consent obediently, and respect her sense of fire for wanting to take their chances and make it into more of a thrill.

"Nobody will be able to argue against our actions once we've satisfied the hunger of a few clanmates. If we're found, I can guarantee your safety should it come down to a fight." Nobody could possibly guarantee such a thing but, in a way, Sandviper held himself to a higher standard than the rest when it regarded combat. Chances were slim that he would succeed in fighting off an entire patrol by himself, but chances were even slimmer that said patrol would be able to do anything worse than kill him. The pain, after all, wouldn't even be a thought in his head.

He looked at them with a certain sharpness, a certain attentiveness, as though this very moment was dangerous and he thought to protect them with the weight of his stare.

Phoenix & Hellion