A few inches of fresh powder had fallen on the territories the night before. It crunched noisily as the battle party made its way to the pointed stones, silent but for their footfalls. The mood was surly and sour, not aided at all by the blistering cold. Hawkstar made no attempt at smalltalk. He knew there was no point. He’d made all the proclamations that could be made back at the camp, to a stony reception. The anguish he felt at the bald-faced opposition of his Clan clawed at his gut. It was too late to back out now, even if he had been rash, what could be done?
At this juncture, it was all he could do to call upon the initial anger he’d felt to propel him through the no-man’s land of his own choices. He only hoped no one else would be felled along the way.
I still don’t think I’m completely wrong. He thought irritably, as he glanced over his shoulder at the collection of Warriors who had either volunteered or been selected for the fight. The group emerged from their brush cover and was instantly seized upon by the cold. The wind, which had previously shaken the trees, carded their pelts with icy fingers. Across the snow-capped rocks Hawkstar saw that ShadowClan was already present. For a few moments both Clans simply stood, shivering. It occurred to Hawkstar that Juncostar had also never led a battle party. What did one do under these circumstances? Was there protocol? He was leaning toward no. What was clean-cut or clear about something as ugly as war? He locked eyes with the other tom and his blood ran hot.
Screw it.
“ThunderClan, attack!” He yowled, springing forward with his claws outstretched. He closed the space between them fairly quickly, and lunged for Juncostar’s face with his claws.
Hawkstar barked a short laugh, shifting against Juncostar’s warm body. He was reluctant to leave, given how frigid their surroundings were.
“Have I said I’m sorry, yet? About all of it?” He murmured, closing his eyes. StarClan might have healed his fatal wounds, but they’d left him with a headache for their troubles. Though he’d perhaps brought it on himself.
“Ospreyshadow is….a very smart young tom, but he’s never been good with socializing. I am sure your Warriors hate him, but his own Clanmates have precious little love for him as well. I hope you’ll extend some empathy to his situation. I believe he’s trying to do what he feels is right.” Hawkstar felt reluctant to say more, but the truth of Copperheart’s death shadowed his words.
“All I wish to do is sleep for a moon, honestly. Let us take a recess, and in a quarter-moon I will bring Ospreyshadow and myself to your camp to discuss what we can do. There must be no more bloodshed.”