Ravenstar  Shadowclan Leader  The Shadowclan Leader’s golden gaze remained narrowed, moving swiftly across the forest. A small grumble escaped Ravenstar, Silkweb had been leading a patrol within the swamps, but they stopped abruptly when a discovery had been made. Dahliapetal had quickly arrived at camp frantically looking for him. While they were still adjusting to their new surroundings, Ravenstar knew that Shadowclan wasn’t completely alone in their new home.. But what caused this situation? How deadly is this one creature?  The scent of Shadowclan felines hit his nose as Ravenstar arrived at the scene of the crime. Grunting softly at the Shadowclan patrol, he made his way towards the deceased deer’s body. A couple of members were observing the body while others were keeping watch of the area. Silkweb’s dark amber gaze remaining on the deer before looming towards her older brother before scowling towards him “You’re late.” Silkweb said, no he wasn’t. The black and gray molly wanted to give him a hard time. The black tom let out a soft snort before observing the deer. It was an adult, male. The bottom of the body was completely shredded while the middle was dismantled. It was almost headless. Arching his eyebrows for a moment, he was observing the wounds that could possibly give away the predictor. Wolf? Possibly. Bear? Possibly. Aspenwood had remained in camp with the senior warriors to overlook the camp.  It had been a couple of moons since Ryefield’s disappearance.  Ravenstar knew that Shadowclan was waiting for him to name a new deputy, but the leader was being stubborn in refusing to name one. Ryefield was too determined, she would make it back to home. Of course, he knew that a couple of warriors would become ambitious enough to start proving themselves capable of deputy position, but Ravenstar wasn’t looking.. Until Ryefield came back or Starclan gave him a sign of a new deputy, the topic was never on his mind.  A couple of felines from the patrol approached him, looking at the body before looking at him. They were at the shore lines of the swamp.. Water a couple of feet away from them. Ravenstar looked over at the patrol before grunting softly, shaking his head. He couldn’t quite figure it out yet, but it was a large animal who did it “What do you guys think?” Ravenstar’s deep voice said quietly, you could barely miss it. But he knew that his patrol heard him. He needed some theories, something that could help start putting pieces together in order for Shadowclan to understand whatever they’re dealing with. 

It had been only a few sunrises since the clans departed, searching for a new home. Although many older warriors and elders hesitated to leave their territory, Owlpaw couldn't help but shiver in anticipation. It wasn't often that an apprentice such as himself was given the chance to travel so far. The two-toned brown feline found himself waking up just as the sun began to rise, too excited to sleep longer. Carefully, Owlpaw stepped between the other felines - a mix of apprentices from the other clans - before reaching his target: Tinypaw. Nudging her gently, "Tinypaw", he whispered, "Tinypaw, let's go explore before the others wake up." His amber eyes stared down at the smaller molly, glowing with joy. Owlpaw was probably the most excited in Windclan about the journey. "Come on, wake up. Don't make me ask Oasispaw."

Kaelan Leader of The Immortal Ones            The metallic tang of blood clung to the air as Kaelan shouldered his way into Sile's new healer’s den, pungent with the scent of yarrow and cobwebs. A jagged gash split the fur at his throat, crimson streaking down his chest where Ravenstar’s claws had found their mark. Each step left a faint crimson droplet in his wake. He didn’t stagger—never that—but he leaned heavily against the stone wall, one paw pressing casually over the wound—betraying the strain of torn muscle beneath the gash. Taking over ShadowClan had been a messy affair, but he’d left their leader’s body cooling in the marsh. Victory, as always, tasted better when it bled.            Kaelan paused at the entrance, cyan eyes narrowing as they adjusted to the dim light before locking onto Sile, who stood frozen near a shelf of dried herbs. He watched the healer's gaze flick downward, tracing the crimson rivulets matting Kaelan's white fur, the jagged tear at his throat still weeping sluggishly. He tilted his head back, exposing the gashes—four claw marks, deep and angry.  "Don't—"he rasped, holding up a bloodied paw before Sile could scold him, "Make a fuss about this. Just fix it." Kaelan coughed—a wet, rough sound—and slumped onto a nest of nearby ferns. His claws tapped a slow, erratic rhythm against the rock—a nervous tic he’d developed as the sickness gnawed deeper.