Ashfur slowly wanders along the edge of the river towards the lake. The sky having opened a bit more allowing him to see his environment decently enough, his pupils dilated wide to make the most of the light descending from silverpelt. His muscles ache, his lungs still somewhat burn from the cold air he'd been huffing for towards the end of this night's training regiment. Certainly an experience, that was. Formidable in his own way, this Silver fights very differently from Talon. Ashfur fared better against him, but deciding blows from his side had been still too few for his own liking. With luck and Starclan on his side, he could win in a serious fight against Silver perhaps. More importantly, Silver's words had been uplifting. Could Ashfur really fare well against most ´common´ Bloodclan warriors by now, if there even is such a thing as a common one of their kind? The idea is charming at least. And the presence of the older warrior oddly… soothing. Were it not for the grey spots and green eyes, he'd look a lot like Whitestorm. What irony, but maybe not an entirely unwelcome one.

Eyes wandering between the reeds and the edge of the forest, the grey tom paces on. Despite the tiredness in his mind and the stinging exhaustion in his limbs, he'll still need to catch some prey for his usual excuse. Better not to give his clanmates even more reason to doubt his stories, even though the lies increasingly turn his stomach. Still, better than the alternative. Better than the tearing pain awakening anew in his chest, as he eventually finds himself looking over to Squirrelflight's sleeping shape, himself unable to find the rest to close his eyes in the warriors den. Out here, he is away, too preoccupied during training to think on it for the most part, and by the time he returns falling asleep is not much of an issue. His ears move atop his head, trying to detect any nearby noises, his nose raised to taste the cold air for any scents. The barren trees of Thunderclan, the sap-filled evergreens of Shadowclan just on the other side of the river, the lake up ahead, ever closer as he advances… the rich scents of the new territories, pleasant, but disappointingly empty of any promising prey scent. With a small scoff but otherwise silent, Ashfur stalks onward. There must be something, there always is if one searches long enough. Patience… it always comes down to it, patience and tenacity. Prey, love, training, it always comes down to patience and tenacity, it seems. Oh well, so be it then.

Slowly the blue eyed warrior comes to a halt, crouching in cover behind a patch of partially crooked reeds. A scent, not far, but no prey. Taking in the air, Ashfur tries to analyse the smell. Clan cat… alone? No sensible medicine cat would wander alone along the lake at this hour towards the Moonpool. A lost apprentice? No, this is… Riverclan scent. A hint of annoyance rises in Ashfur as he stalks forth, lowered barely above the ground, a hunch on whom he might find taking clear shape in his mind. Sure enough, his intuition is proven right as a familiar pelt wanders the lake's shoreline, the tabby pelt difficult to spot from afar, were it not for the white, well reflecting chest and belly fuzz. Ashfur slowly rises up and pads closer

„Maybe I should pretend not to know who it is and chase the intruding warrior off as I'm supposed to…"

Hawkfrost's pelt stands on edge for a second as he hears Ashfur's voice, whisking around, a cold hostility in the tabby's blue eyes, claws unsheathed and glistening in the moonlight. His gaze quickly softens, thaws into amusement thinly veiling some small amount of relief as the Riverclan warrior recognises the grey tom. As his claws sheath once more and his posture normalises, Hawkfrost chuckles

„But what fun would be in that? Well done, I didn't notice you at all. Fair enough, I suppose now we're square for my little scare during the Gathering a while ago"

Ashfur nods, his approach slowed until the Riverclan warrior's claws are fully gone from view again. So cold a glare… he would have been more than willing to commit violence if he thought it needed. Tigerstar's son indeed. How far would he have been willing to go to make sure no-one knew he'd been here if it'd been anyone other than Ashfur finding him? The mere question dismays the Thunderclan warrior.

„What are you doing here, Hawkfrost? Not much of interest here. Thunderclan doesn't use the lake's shore for much more than sunning during greenleaf."

Hawkfrost looks out over the shore, sitting down. Stepping closer, Ashfur sees that in some spots some light digging was done. Casting a discreet look down to Hawkfrost's paws, they are dirty with earth.

„Right now? Yes, you are right. But I think that when leafbare ends, this place could become more… relevant"

Ashfur flicks his ear, sitting down near the intruding tabby

„How so?"

„Consider it an educated hunch, nothing more just yet. But if I'm right, you'll be able to square your debt early into newleaf."

Ashfur observes the Riverclan warrior a while, before slowly nodding

„Good. But know that whatever you're planning, I won't betray my clan for you"

Hawkfrost chuckles, turning his entertained gaze to meet Ashfur's.

„Who said anything about betrayal? I'll probably just need you to go fetch someone, set up a meeting, nothing more. And besides… it wouldn't be to your disadvantage, quite the contrary"

Ashfur raises an eyebrow, uncertainty in his eyes

„How so? There are not many things I'd much care for, Hawkfrost."

„But for those few things, you care for all the more. Remember, what happened the last time Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight grew distant from each other?"

Ashfur's breath briefly gets stuck in his throat, his pads sweating. There is no need for an answer, the two toms know what happened. She was his, in all his life had he never been as content and as consistently so as during those days. There was no pain, he wanted for nothing. All he ever needed was right there, walking beside him on patrols, cuddled into his pelt during cold nights, laughing as they shared prey. With a small growl, Ashfur squints his eyes shut and shakes his head. The comfort of these memories comes always at a price. By the time his eyes open, Ashfur finds his paw clutching at his chest again. Anger bubbles up in the grey warrior. A low and cheap way to try to entice him, even for a sly schemer like Hawkfrost. But what if it's true…

„So what? I get you to meet someone and Squirrelflight loses interest in Brambleclaw? You're talking nonsense, Hawkfrost. As if it could be that easy…"

„But what if it is?"

Hawkfrost grins, laying his tail on Ashfur's shoulder

„Nothing loses a she-cat like a lack of attention, Ashfur. And I intend to see to it that Brambleclaw will be plenty busy for the entirety of the foreseeable future. How long will she stay when her mate has no time for her? And where might she find refuge, comfort?"

Ashfur remains silent, his plentiful reservations against Hawkfrost's obvious conniving wrestling with the small spark of hope his words set alight, the internal confrontation made visual in his thoughtful eyes, darting back and forth between arguments none can hear. He's becoming stronger, in time he will reach his goal either way. Right? What if Hawkfrost's prognosis stands true though? With Brambleclaw indisposed, who else would she turn to? Surely she remembers who was there for her last time, the good times they had. Something remains off, clearly, obviously, but if Ashfur remains vigilant and ready to intervene if needed, what'd be the worst that could happen? That, and turn it as he might, he still owes Hawkfrost a favour. He got Ashfur in touch with one of his warrior ancestors, something Starclan has shown no interest in.

Time passes, thoughts bashing against each other in the grey tom's head for a good while, before he at last becomes increasingly aware of the fuzzy tail resting on him. He considers shaking it off for a heartbeat, but what'd be the point?

„I… will have to think on it, Hawkfrost. Give me some time."

Hawkfrost grins, as if he'd just caught a big juicy piece of prey. With the faintest purr in his voice, he slowly pulls his tail from the Thunderclan warrior and rises to his paws.

„Of course. I aim to be at most Gatherings I can. You have until the end of leafbare to decide, that ought to be plenty time for one decision, yes? Today certainly proved more productive than I expected"

Ashfur nods without further words, still pondering. Hawkfrost slowly takes his leave, padding over to the water. Turning his head, the Thunderclan tom watches as the tabby slowly enters deeper, with a small shiver at first, before submerging more and more until only his head sticks from the water's surface. From there, Hawkfrost quickly gains distance, what little of him was to be seen over the inky black water during the dark of the night rapidly becoming too small in the distance to recognise. Riverclan warriors… they really do swim like otters. The very thought of getting into the water, the temperature it must currently be, sends a small shiver down Ashfur's spine. But left alone once more, Ashfur raises his gaze towards silverpelt. The stars sparkle as always, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to indicate his ancestors displeasure, nor their agreement either. Just silence and beautifully shining stars. They would say something if he were about to commit a mistake, wouldn't they? He's never done anything to displease them, his life has been spend serving his birth clan, hunting, patrolling, fighting… he did as he was supposed to, has he not? Maybe he misjudged their silence. Maybe they are still guiding him. He will need to consider his options. His eyes sparkle in the reflected starlight. He has the rare chance to perhaps get a second opinion from someone who has no stake in it either way. It'd be interesting to hear a Bloodclan cat's opinion on it all…

But all of that at their own time. Rising up and shaking his pelt out vigorously, Ashfur tries to focus his mind once more. Either way he'd not make the decision tonight and he still has some hunting to do. Padding back into the forest, he resumes his stalk, well away from any borders. If there are any more cats wandering Thunderclan grounds tonight that shouldn't, he'd really prefer not to know. Two guests the clan would disapprove of are plenty for one day.

Bichfall nods his head without a word as Ashfur passes by him sitting guard at the camp. Ashfur's nightly escapades have become common enough by now to no longer draw much comment from anyone. Waving his tail in reply, Ashfur pads onward, to the fresh-kill pile. It'd taken a bit longer than he had hoped, even without counting his chance encounter at the lake, but he'd been determined to deliver. Letting the reasonably plump dove dangling from his jaws fall onto the pile, he wastes little time slinking into the warriors den right after. It's safe to say, all that can be exhausted, has been exhausted for today. His muscles all but screaming, his mind a tired and abuzz mess, the cold air having rendered his nose numb from all the scenting and the icy ground has given his pads a stiff ache. He's lucky they haven't cracked as far as he could tell. With a loud exhale, the warrior finally slumps into his nest, curling up. Maybe Thistleclaw too could have an opinion on it all… his ancestor does not strike Ashfur as particularly chatty, let alone prone to gossip about other clans affairs, but perhaps he'd still have advice for his descendant. Be it only to strike Ashfur's skull against a tree for being a fool. A quiet, self-ironic chuckle emits from Ashfur as his eyes already grow heavier with each passing heartbeat. Perhaps… either way, still a lot of time to pass. Time he'll need to use. Training, his apprentice by day, himself by night. But now, now the soft comfort of his nest beckons him beyond anything else. Within moments, he drifts off to much needed sleep.

Eyes, observing, seeing the slumbering warrior without being there. Two pairs of amber eyes, joined by livelier, blue eyes soon after. The latter look pleased, content with their achievement so far. Yet, these are not all that are watching. As unbeknown as these three observers are to the already soundly sleeping Ashfur, another pair of eyes, icy, cold eyes, watch in silence, pondering without ever changing expression. What has been seen and heard, and whom else seems to have at least just as keen an interest. Intervention might be needed at some point. It'll be a risk, but much is at stake, much to be won… or lost. Talon's pet could become valuable in time, but only if he doesn't distract too much from more immediate tasks. For now, wiser not to risk anything just yet. Much time will pass before this might begin to pay off and a lot remains to be done by then. But in the end, if all goes well, many moons from now, a battle can be won the kind of which no-one ever even imagined possible. A victory that no cat, clan, rogue or otherwise could ever rival, with appropriate spoils to be had in the end. The Dark Forest cats wallow so much in their self-victimisation, their need for revenge. So many rogues just like them has he seen, learned how they function. How they fall. In time…

He's waited for years to right a wrong before, he can be patient again.