He doesn't want to go on the raid, but what can he do? Say no? Strongclaw knows that won't work. So he trudges along with the rest of them, trying to pretend that that each step wipes her blood from his paws, just a little. It doesn't. It's still there in every way that matters. They reach the city in record time- a slow record, that is. Everyone's wary and cautious, checking in shadows and behind bushes for ambushes that aren't there. But there are no attacks, not that it matters. Strongclaw has no life left to take.
For a moment he feels alive, when he sees a familiar face slinking between roses. His heart stops, just like hers did, and that's when he remembers.
He killed her. She isn't the black cat among the flowers; she's a river creature now, and took her last breath with his.