Private Thread Plot Thread They Come

Bloodlines of strength ignite fierce souls
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Wildcry stared at the scene...Was this to be ThunderClan's future? Unbelievable...her jaw clenched as her gaze shifted sharply to Kestrelswipe as he approached Gingerthrash. "Don't." Her voice cracked even at the lower strain. "Don't touch him." There was something almost primal in the way she said it.

Wildcry lowered her head, jaws carefully closing around her uncle's scruff. Gingerthrash was heavier than he had been in life, and the weight of his limp body pulled painfully at her neck and shoulders. She refused to show it and hauled the body onto her shoulders. She would be the only one worthy to carry him.

Her expression was not gentle as she turned from her son. He would lead them someplace unfamiilar, exposed...Her ears flattened. Now that Moosestar had done them the favor of passing the torch, Kestrelswipe was thrust into the position whether he was ready or not. "We settle on the outskirts of our own territory. At the very least it can be where we regroup, mourn and avenge our dead."

The crows shrieked overhead and she wouldn't let them touch her uncle as she hailed him through the tunnel and away from the rogues. She looked over the camp where generations upon generations had called their home then looked back at Kestrelswipe, expression heavier if her son would only look.

A mother's disappointment.

He wasn't the son she thought she was... "Towards the rising sun, Kestrelswipe. Near Two-Leg Place." She wasn't so sure herself, but they needed action and if Wildcry hesitated she didn't show it. Slowly but surely she led the solumn procession east.

Survival demands caution, but greatness requires daring
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Kosmo watched the last ThunderClan cats disappear ... Yeilding the territory without slaughtering the last cat. A slow, satisfied purr began deep within Kosmo's chest. "It is ours." His odd eyes lifted to the spots of black around Camp, pecking at fresh kill and clucked a few noises to follow, but not harass those in exile.

He felt lighter and bounced on his toes, rolling on his heels. "We will take shifts to the River to wash thoroughly. Cleanse yourselves of the blood and venom. Prudence..." Her name was pleasant note, like birdsong. "Make yourself at home...Take Basilisk and Cordelia and have the medicine den stripped of anything fouled beyond use. We will bring back clay to absorb the smell."

For moons this had been a vision...a dream that started small but now shared with many. "Aurelius and Cookie with me to the River. Jasper...Fetch Magdelen, Polaris and Eneni from our old camp." Once everyone had been assigned a task, the cinnamon mink tom flicked his tail in partial salute and headed west to the nearest bend in the river.

I don’t need them. Not anymore.
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Magdalen limped into the camp and stared around her. Her injuries ached and she was exhausted. Yellow eyes hollow with exhaustion, the ginger, gray, black and white she-cat couldn’t feel joy or excitement at the site of her new home. Had it really been worth it all to get an area among the clans? From what she knew, at least two had died including their leader. The former kittypet shook her head sadly. This is exactly what she hated about not being a kittypet. The fights for territory and food.

Magdalen gazed around the camp, a sadness heavy in her heart. Thunderclan’s home, now hers through bloodshed. The she-cat hopped her way forward, gritting her teeth as pain lanced through her muscles. She had already washed herself off once her bleeding had slowed, clearing the dirt she had pressed into the injuries and the poisonous goop from her fur in the river. A light breeze caused the tabico to shiver, her fur still drying from the water. Magdalen truly couldn’t say that she was a fan of water for anything but drinking, and she was glad that they weren’t to live in Riverclan’s lands. She had learned much about the clans from Kosmo in preparation for this battle and had gained a grudging respect, although she still thought it best to avoid them all.

Sighing lightly and trying not to hiss in pain, Magdalen searched for Kosmo. She didn’t yet know her new clanmates well enough to feel comfortable approaching any of them. Although she certainly would have to try and give acknowledgement to those who had fought with her earlier in the day. The last thing she wanted was to make them angry at her and to get driven out of the clan. Not seeing the tom she sought, Magdalen hobbled her way to the side of the camp and settled down, unsure of what to do with herself now that the battle had been won.

Survival demands caution, but greatness requires daring
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Kosmo returned from the river with water still beading along his darker cinnamon colored legs. The river had done its work and the last traces of the battle had washed from him, leaving him refreshed and smelling faintly of the herbs he had collected on the way.

Balanced carefully between his jaws was a broad grape leaf folded around a sagging bag of mostly clay. But on top rested the necessities he collected...Yarrow, Kit's Ear and Chamomile... As he returned with his Clanmates, his mismatched eyes swept over the vast Camp they had claimed, basically untouched and ready for rehabilitation.

His whiskers twitched with approval at the sight of the medicine den cleaned out - Basilisk had followed instruction. That was good. All that would be needed to do would be to layer the clay and refill the herb stock. He'd have to go off and send for his dry staches... It'd take multiple trips.

But his attention was instinctively diverted to the scent of blood and turned his head to catch the sight of Magdalen returned alongside Jasper. Both cats looked worse for wear. "Jasper, you look exhausted. You may rest in one of the Dens if you wish. Does anything hurt specifically - or can it wait?" the package had been placed down momentarily. Magdalen was tucked against the edge of camp, fur still damp. Exhaustion hollowed her eyes... He approached her with his leaf without the slightest hesitation.

The grape leaf was again gently placed on the ground. "There you are. Properly washed?" He greeted her with a pleasant trill as he got close enough to try and begin nosing her to check for any lingering slime or wounds. There was a seemingly familiar concern of a cat whose duty it was to care. His voice lowered as he made to curl himself nearby, not quiet touching but close enough to be personal.

"You fought beside us - and survived. You've done well. Now...What hurts, Magdelen?" With his face still tilted towards her his maw scooped up the multiple sprigs and set them in front of her, each still pristine and fresh with their leaves and petals. Each different...each necessary.

"These three herbs are very important for times like these. Take a deep breath...swallow a petal of this. This is chamomile. It's a low growing plant with hairy, branching stems. See the leaves there gives it a feathery look. Its blooms have an outer fringe of white ray florets with yellow centers."He motioned to the greyish-green plant."It's a balm for pain and frayed nerves that follow a battle such as this. It'll help keep you strong."

Once he was sure that she had washed herself either by confirmation or scent, he angled himself to try and help groom her fur dry - taking great care in avoiding her wounds.