Author Note: Have I got a new chapter for you! I actually had to make a whole family tree to sort out all the junk that goes on in this chapter, since warrior cat Clans aren't big enough to not have all the cats related to each other.

To those of you who like reading about angst-ridden kitties, enjoy!

Chapter 26: Turning

The bodies stretched out at the center of the camp, as if the Clan needed another reminder of the horrible tragedy that had claimed so many cats, young and old.

The queens, kits, elders and apprentices had awoken to a horror much greater than any prophecy could have foretold. Ravenwing, the medicine cat, had used up several of her herbs to mask the smell of death.

Even Stoneheart had joined the corpses piled up in the clearing when the dawn patrol had found his broken, blood-washed body slumped beside the Thunderpath. The deputy was almost immediately replaced by his littermate, Flintstripe. Flintstripe promptly took it upon himself to repeal his brother's agreement between their Clan and ShadowClan, as the ShadowClan warriors had ruthlessly murdered so many of their cats.

Flintstripe then had his strongest warriors disassemble the barricade blockading the gorse tunnel. For those who still held revolution burning in their eyes, the destruction of the barricade was the destruction of their forever-unattainable dream.

Few cats felt like eating, or hunting, or talking. Several she-cats huddled together, their faces marred by grief and loss for Clanmates, kin, kits, and mates.

Dovepelt's loss-scarred eyes struggled to look beyond the butchered forms of her littermate, Whitefeather, her beloved, Eagletail, and her dear friend Sorreltongue as well as several of her Clanmates.

"Did you see them going off to fight…" she murmured, to no cat in particular.

Ravenwing shook her head wearily, exhausted from a day of treating injured cats and shattered from the sight of her brother Eagletail's broken body. "Warriors of the barricade who didn't last the night…"

"Did you see them lying where they died?" a pale brown tabby queen, Birchwhisker, mewed quietly, trying not to let her thoughts overcome her. Ambertail, who had been a medicine apprentice but chose the life of a queen, nudged Birchwhisker in the shoulder.

"Someone used to sing to them and lick them when they cried!" she added exasperatedly.

Briarclaw, grieving for her brother, stared off at something no other cat could see. "Did you see them lying side by side…"

Suddenly, Ambertail's three small kits tumbled out of the nursery, scrambling innocently past the mourning she-cats.

Flowerkit took one look at the cats heaped in the clearing and jostled her mother. "Mother, why are they still asleep?" she squeaked.

"Yes, who's going to wake them?" asked Maplekit.

"No cat ever will," Ambertail whispered, placing a soft lick on the top each of her kits' heads and sending them off to play.

"No cat ever told them that a greenleaf day can kill!" muttered Ravenwing, flicking her tail towards their dead Clanmates.

"Many of them were new warriors…" Birchwhisker meowed with a shake of her head. "For most of them, this was their first battle."

"Fighting for a new Clan that would rise up like the sun!" Dovepelt murmured, squeezing her eyes shut to shield them from the horrors before her.

"Where's that new Clan, now that fighting's done?" Briarclaw moaned bitterly.

ThunderClan had given up so many of its warriors, and for what? Kestrelstar was still in power, their bellies were still hollow, and every cat in the Clan was nothing more than an empty, suffering shell of themselves.

"Nothing changes," Ravenwing reminded the she-cats with a heaving sigh.

"Nothing ever will!" sighed Dovepelt, her eyes clouding like a sky before a storm.

Ambertail's mew fought its way out of her mouth as the gentle queen turned her head towards the nursery, which was full to bursting with rambunctious, oblivious kits. "Every moon another kit, another mouth to fill…"

"Same old story," Briarclaw mumbled with an anguished thrash of her tail. "What's the use of grief?"

Dovepelt threw her head exasperatedly to the sky, which glared back, clear as the river. "What's the use of praying if there's not a cat who hears?"

"Turning…turning." The she-cats murmured to each other. "Turning, turning, turning."

"Turning through the seasons…" Ambertail sighed, padding slowly after her rowdy kits as they clambered back into the nursery.

"Turning, turning!" the she-cats repeated. "Turning through the seasons!"

"Nothing changes!" rasped Birchwhisker, at last tearing her eyes away from her perished sons. "Nothing ever can!"

Ravenwing bent down to place a gentle lick between her brother's ears. "Round and round the roundabout and back where we began!"

The she-cats dispersed, swiftly as they had assembled. "Round and round and back where we began…"

. . .

There was no herb in the forest that could heal the invisible, unspeakable wounds of ThunderClan.

And so the mourning continued, on and on through the seasons until the pain had frozen in every cat's eyes and their wails were no more than a whisper among the shadows of the trees.

Author Note: Well, there you go. That's probably about it for the angst, actually, at least until the last chapter.