It was the cold that woke Smokeflood from restless, dreamless sleep. She took a deep breath, eyes snapping open at the unfamiliar scent. Her heart raced, and she shot up in her nest as she looked around, not recognizing her surroundings. She closed her eyes, remembering. Right. She lay back down in the moss and fern woven nest, looking out of the den she was crammed in. Pine nettles coated the camp clearing like a cloud of russet bedding. ShadowClan. Rain had persisted on through the day and paused through night, but a slow patter drizzled down in the early morning light. Smokeflood tucked her head in her paws, eyebrows knit and eyes downcast. It wasn't a dream after all.

She went to close her eyes again, wishing for sleep to welcome her still-tired body once more, when a high, young scream echoed through camp. She was on her paws in an instant, streaking out the make-shift den she had been staying in with the other less-injured RiverClan cats. Another few warriors had popped out of the warriors den to see what was going on, though, Smokeflood didn't recognize them. The scream had come from the medicine den, and it was followed by gasping cries.

"What's going on?!" She stuck her head into the den situated in the rotting stump of a fallen pine, the trunk and it's branching fronds of the same fallen pine serving as the warriors den. Honeybreeze, yellow-golden tabby fur covered in cobwebs and poultices, was still, and her kit Kestrelkit lay crying by her side. Leopardnose stood by, as well as a few other ShadowClan medicine cats, all not quite able to look at the kit. Honeybreeze was dead.

"She won't wake up..! She won't wake up! Please, Honeybreeze, Mom! Wake— wake up...!" Kestrelkit gasped for air as he cried. He pressed his muzzle into her shoulder and muffled his cries.

Smokeflood blinked, taking a step back from the den. Oh. His sister Spinekit is gone too, she didn't come back with them. Smokeflood swallowed, hanging her head. She herself never really had parents; her mother had died during her kithood and father unknown and absent in her life.

"S-Smoke-p-paw..?" Kestrelkit whispered, and the dark she-cat quickly came to his call. He looked so small in the half-light of the den. Bushes and bracken built up and wave around the thick exposed roots and rotting core of the pine tree, a few heavily injured RiverClan warriors blearily waking to the kit's crying.

       "I'm sorry, Kestrelkit," she murmured, looking down at the wide-eyed ginger tabby.

      "I want to go back to the nursery. I want to go back, please take me back!"

      "I can't," Smokeflood whispered. He sniffed, and let out another small cry, smashing his nose into his mother's cold fur once more. I can't take a kit to some bloodbath. But..., she looked out of the den, I can take myself to a bloodbath. See if there's still fighting. Look for survivors.

"She died in her sleep. She probably didn't feel anything," a black medicine cat tom offered, head low. His ears rounded neatly, and soft, medium-length fur framed his tapered face. Smokeflood looked up, hazel gaze cold.

"She shouldn't have died in the first place," she whispered, gazing down at kit mourning his mother. She looked around at the cats in the den. Laurelstep was sleeping soundly, cobwebs packed on a belly wound; his mate Thymeclaw hadn't been aloud to sleep in the medicine den, and Smokeflood had listened to him move restlessly the whole night. Next to Laurelstep was Flurrypaw, the young gray and white she-cat twitching in her sleep. While a poultice was slathered across her flank and covered the bite, an angry red scar spanned out a mouse-tail's length from the source due to Coalpelt's on the spot treatment. Many other RiverClan warriors lay, horribly wounded and struggling to recover. None of these cats should even be injured. As she looked, she realized her mentor Rosecall was not among any of the wounded, and she hadn't been in the temporary den either. I need to go to RiverClan. I need to see if there's still fighting. I'll fight any remaining ThunderClan scum. She bit back a growl of frustration, and the black medicine cat lowered his head with an empathetic look in his green eyes.

      "Hey...," he shuffled close, head low. The other medicine cats had returned to either sleep or start work after Kestrelkit's outburst, but this tom neared with small, soft looking paws. "Cherrystar is sending out a patrol to check out RiverClan's camp at sunrise. Just a stealth operation, no fighting. I know I shouldn't be telling you, it's probably against medicine cat morals to talk a cat into possible grave danger. But... I know this must be horrible to watch and not be able to do anything." Smokeflood blinked, and nodded, already feeling the adrenaline pump. She paused though, before she could start to leave, ear flicking to the side.

      "Th...thank you." She watched his face for a reaction. He gave a small stiff nod, then a smile.

      "Good luck. Stay safe. And when you get back, you can come to me. Ask for me, if you can't find me; I'm Cherrytongue." The soft black tom closed his eyes and purred. Smokeflood swished her tail and turned, bounding out of the den. Her wounds still stung with a weak pain, the only one giving her true annoyance being the cut to her hind leg. With every step she felt a small pang, but she slipped out of ShadowClan's camp without being noticed. After all, since they were guests, they were supposed to stay in camp. But I can't miss this opportunity.

      She found a ditch hidden under brush to crouch in, rainwater dampening her belly and drops plopping down on her pelt. She waited for the patrol to pass so that she could silently tail behind. With the ShadowClan patrol, if I get into trouble I'll have backup, rather than if I were to go on my own. Her mind had drifted to memories of training, and then to her most recent battle. If I had fought harder, if I had done better at avoiding hits, maybe I could've changed the outcome.... She dragged herself out of her thoughts as she heard a patrol leaving, and picked her head up to watch. A sandy brown tom led the patrol, four light-footed warriors following close behind. That's definately a stealth patrol.

      Smokeflood slinked out of cover, quietly sticking to the shadows and following the patrol at a distance. She let her nose and ears guide the way, drizzling rain seeming to seep into her bones. Moving through ShadowClan's sap and smoke scented territory wasn't too hard; it wasn't until they were at the ravine border and onto ThunderClan soil that Smokeflood really had trouble tailing silently. Twice she thought she had lost their scent through the unnavigable dense forests, but thankfully hadn't. ThunderClan probably won't be up to fight any small trespassing patrols after what they've pulled in RiverClan, so it's not that big of a deal that we're crossing through, they might not even have patrols out today.

The sun peeked through gray clouds, rain still steadfast, marking its position right above her head. Smokeflood stopped suddenly, realizing the scent trail had suddenly vanished among the shadowy oaks. What...? Did ThunderClan get them or something..? How did they....? She looked around, eyes narrow with confusion. Did they completely cloak their scent for the stealthiness? Why didn't they start doing that the second we were in ThunderClan terr—

"You can stop following us." Her heart smacked at her chest, and she could feel it pulse in her throat. Out of the shadows stalked the sandy tom who led the patrol, the darkness licking at his sides like a dense, black fog. The other patrolmates followed, shoulderblades sharp as they padded with low heads, eyes slits. A black she-cat blinked, the shadows slithering around her pelt like shapeless snakes. A shadow elemental. Of course. I didn't know they could disguise scents though... then again, I've never met one. She straightened up, fur flattened to her well-muscled, broad frame.

      "I was just using you to get back to my camp," she meowed haughtily, and the sandy ginger-brown leader chuffed a small laugh. His fur, sticking out in random directions from the rain, was marked with a darker ginger stripe down his spine, and dark amber eyes met the challenge with a solid stare.

"Is that so?" His voice had a very foreign accent, one she had never encountered in any of the clans. "You will probably be heavily disappointed. Go back to ShadowClan, we can take care of this," he turned, his patrol filing into their designated positions for maximized efficiency in case of ambush.

"No, I have to come. I have to help my clan." She stood firmly. The lead of the patrol sighed.

"You must be that cat Lightspark spoke of. The one so set on going back to help, the one he had to drag back to the others because you could barely move. Go back to ShadowClan, you really should not see what is out there." Her stomach felt so sick, yet it was so empty.

       "I have to. I have to help," she lowered her head. "Please. I have to. This is my purpose: to protect and defend RiverClan. I have to protect them." The patrol leader grimaced.

      "I do not know that there is much left to protect. Two cats arrived just before dawn, one actually died shortly after arrival. They said.. most everybody in RiverClan camp is dead."

      Her heart stopped.

     "No... that's...," but it is. There's no reason for it to be a lie. And... part of me— she sucked in a deep breath, her eyes squeezing shut and body tensing. Part of me already knew that was the truth.

      "I'm sorry. We are going to see if there are any survivors. You really should go back to ShadowClan. If you stay in the shadows, Spiderstep should be able to cloak you for a short enough time to hurry back." He referenced to the small, wiry black shadow she-cat.

      "I need to come with you. I don't care how terrible it is. I have to help my clan."

      "Look, we just don't want you to get the bad dreams from seeing it," a ginger tabby she-cat on the patrol meowed. "Sandstripe is only trying to protect you. We can't stop you from following us, but you're only going to hurt yourself."

"Don't worry, we can take her back," the whole patrol tensed at the voice, fur on end. Smokeflood blinked, and slowly turned around. Lightspark. The silvery white tom stood, head tipped up slightly. Ferntail was at his side, the small but long pale ginger-brown tom purred gently. How did they— is Ferntail a shadow elemental or something...? "Ferntail saw you sneak out, and he called it to my attention. We've been following you this whole time." The leafy-green eyed counterpart nodded brightly.

      "Yeah-p!" He popped the p with a cheerful grin. "Come on Smoky, your body must be exhausted; you're still healing, after all!" Ferntail purred. Smokeflood curled her lip.

      "I have to go. What if my denmates are still there, barely alive? What if they have just one last word? I should be there! What if my mentor is there? What if my deputy is still there? I still haven't seen Pearlfrost yet! I haven't seen many of the cats who trained me! I have so much to left to say!" Her fur was on end. She felt a small touch on her ear, and resisted striking out. Ferntail was there, his smile no longer there, his eyes soft.

     "No. I'll drag you back to ShadowClan if I have to. Come on." Lightspark was at her other side to support her. The stealth patrol left after glancing back at the scene. How humiliating. I can't even go back to my own camp. I can't do anything to help. I'm sorry Miststar.

      "How did you even know about the stealth patrol? I didn't even know about it...!" Lightspark meowed, and the trio started on their way back.

      "Cherrytongue," was all she mumbled, eyes on the ground.

      "StarClan! I'm going to claw his nose off! What was he thinking?" Ferntail growled with a sly grin. He cast a look to Smokeflood, but she didn't respond with a laugh. My clan is dead. And all I did... nothing. I did nothing. My clan died and I did nothing.

//

An

Sandstripe led the patrol, Spiderstep was the shadow she-cat, and Lionflower was the ginger tabby also on the patrol.