The patrol moves swiftly over the cold, rough grounds of twoleg-place, reinforcing claws clacking against pavements. Talon looks over his shoulder, looking at the cats following him, keeping pace easily. The emotions in their eyes range from anger to excitement. Returning his gaze ahead, checking the thunderpath with due caution for a moment before crossing with his followers before any twoleg monsters can turn up. While a bit of anger does pulse through the dark grey tom, he could not deny that he too felt some excitement. No clanmates this time, no training, but just trespassing rogues. He glances at his dogteeth as he keeps moving. He could not unwind at the river, now at least he gets a chance to unwind in a way. His thoughts briefly go back to their raid of Thunderclan, the grey tom that had tried to pin him. It took effort to work around his instincts and strike his leg despite his throat being wide open for attack. No need for that this time. No holding back, no avoiding potent swipes and bites. His heart beating stronger, anticipation rises in Talon. He is still a Bloodclan warrior, a doghunt is not the same as a real battle. From the corner of his eye, Talon spots Frost running close to him, his amber eyes shining with the same excitement as courses through Talon. It will do his reputation some good, to fight today, kill Bloodclan's enemies. If nothing else, his former second-in-command should regain some confidence in him. Today might do them both some good.
As they grow close to their target, Talon slows down, nearing the corner to the alley this is mostly about. The smells of twoleg-place here are undermined by the unmistakable scent of fish. The dumpsters here regularly contain it, thrown away by the twolegs of the surrounding twoleg dwellings. Losing a food source is not an option, not with food already being as short as is. The rogues know better than to challenge Bloodclan on it's own territory, all that ensues is on them. His gaze wanders one more time over the patrol at his heel, all having come to a stand-still, looking at their leader, waiting for the order. Frost sits almost beside Talon, a familiar occurrence, before Kestrel that was his place wherever they both went. Giving the former second-in-command a look, Talon finds Frost returning the gaze an giving his leader a nod, an impatient smile upon his white face. Talon flicks his ear. He'd prefer to interpret the gesture as encouraging, yet it feels more like he is being openly evaluated by his warrior. Turning away, he disregards that sentiment, ears standing attentively, trying to hear what might be going on in the alley, if the rogues know whether they are there. After a moment of silence, he can make out ruffling of garbage bags, the clanking of tins against metal. They are enjoying their capture, enjoying Bloodclan's dearly needed food. The dark grey leader's eyes narrow and he gives a signal to the rest of the patrol with a flick of his tail before padding onwards, his speed picking up rapidly as he turns the corner. Hearing his clanmates behind and beside him, speeding up much as he does, he breaks into a sprint, thundering down the alley towards the big dumpsters. A few ragged pelted rogues sit around the dumpsters, either eating or grooming themselves as. The ears of two perk up, turning towards the rapidly advancing Bloodclan warriors. As their expressions turn first to fright, then to wrath, one lets out a loud yowl, alerting the rest. Several cats leap out of the large dumpsters, quick to find Talon and his patrol as they are almost upon them already. Clover's count seemed fairly accurate, about nine of them. This time they would not be able to group up on a single Bloodclan warrior. Feeling the blood pulse hot through his veins, Talon lets out a fierce howl as he leaps into battle, mirrored by the other warriors at his side.
A rugged looking tom with messy brown pelt leaps towards Talon to meet him mid-air, claws outstretched and face twisted into a grim snarl. The two toms collide, swiping and trying to get a grip on the other while denying the same to the other, before they fall to the cold asphalt to continue their tussle. The sound of battle quickly fills the air in the somewhat small side-alley, in the far corners of Talon's vision he sees pelts colliding, the sparkle of claws in the gloomy shade of their environment, bits of snow kicked up and the first droplets of blood flying through the air. His focus however remains the ball of wildly hissing fur trying to find a good grip on him with his teeth. As the rogue tries to push past Talon's clawed paws to sink his fangs into the Bloodclan leader's shoulder, Talon kicks him off in a high arch with a grunt. Quickly rising back to his paws, Talon observes that his opponent has been flung against one of the large dumpsters, but is already getting back up, shaking his head and readying himself to launch his ragged self into battle once more. Admirable resolve. Shame that Talon's faction cannot afford to recruit much right now, perhaps one or two of them could have been worthwhile. His ears leaned back flat against his head, Talon's pelt spikes up high, the tall tom appearing larger still for a moment as he watches for the brown rogue's charging approach. He waits until he is close before just barely leaping over him, catching the tom's tail in his jaws as he descends. Before the rogue has a chance to fully turn to face him, Talon forcefully yanks this tail towards him, dragging the cat in reach before letting go and moving to meet him. Pulling up his paw, Talon draws a long gash along the rogue's entire left side, sending fur flying as the first small streams of blood begin raining down onto the snowy ground. The rogue lets out an agonised howl, but through his pain still spins around to face Talon. The red eyed warrior is caught unprepared as the tom's claws speed towards him, Talon's too late attempt at an evasion earning him a set of clawmarks in his left shoulder. Growling and hissing low, the dark pelted leader moves back a few tail-lengths to reevaluate, only to find the rogue immediately moving up, relentlessly seeking to pull his claws through Talon's face. Talon growls, narrowly dodging the furious flurry launched against him, before finding his chance as his opponent briefly sets down both front paws. Throwing himself forward, Talon crashes into his enemy with his full weight, sending the rogue to the floor and giving the Bloodclan leader a short moment to survey the situation. Two other fights seem to have already ended, the lifeless bodies of rogues laying on the floor, colouring the snow in a beautiful shade of red around their still leaking wounds. Most others are still at it. Gash and Wax are rapidly bringing down another, fighting together against their opponent, leaving the grey furred rogue they are battling increasingly covered in deep clawmarks, blood spraying around with each movement of the unfortunate street cat. Most others are fighting their opponents one on one, their pride and the acknowledgement of it by the other Bloodclan cats keeps those with no-one to fight from interfering. Gravel, one of the warriors who has had an opponent and already won her bout, has lept up to the dumpsters, keeping watch over the alley to ensure no unaccounted reinforcements could catch the Bloodclan warriors by surprise. The others with no fights of their own circle the ongoing fights or simply observe, Owl still lapping the blood off his paws from his own finished fight.
His attention returning to his own fight, Talon sees that as he rises up again, the rogue too takes a look around, increasing despair in his eyes as he sees the way things are turning. His eyes soon remain at one of the other fights, Moon battling another she-cat and quickly gaining the upper paw. The battle ends abruptly as the she-cat rogue attempts a close range lunge to get onto Moon's back, leaving herself far too open. Quickly rearing up to her hind-legs, Moon catches the she-cat with her jaws by the throat, pulling her out of the air and to the ground with a loud thump. Desperately the female rogue attempts to batter away at the seasoned veteran warrior, all her attempts ceasing as with a wet ripping sound Moon pulls back her head, the female remaining on the floor while a part of her throat rests in Moon's high held head before she spits it to the side. The brown tom's eyes widen in misery and horror. Talon tilts his head in quiet observation. Kin? No… a mate perhaps. How foolish, why would one do something so reckless as to challenge Bloodclan and exposing one's loved one to the danger of it. It matters little, his pain would not endure long anyway. If only he knew the misery yet to come in the void beyond. Talon shakes his head to clear it of any such thoughts. No time to think of that now.
„Eyes here! Your fight is still with me!"
Talon approaches, tail kept straight and low, observing the rogue as his gaze returns to the Bloodclan leader. As Talon's red eyes hold the rogues gaze he sees his pain, his loss, rapidly turn into blazing hatred. With a yowl that could have made even the fiercest warrior flinch, the grieving rogue charges forward at full speed. As a fearsome swipe descends, aimed straight for Talon's neck, the dark grey tom pushes forward, catching the descending leg in his jaws, biting down hard. Talon turns his head, keeping a firm grip on the rogue's front leg, tasting the iron tang of blood upon his tongue as he causes the rogue to fall onto his side. His red eyes open wide in surprise when neither the pain of the bite, nor crashing to the ground seem enough to stop the rage filled rogue in his current state, wincing trough his teeth as the brown cat's claws rake across his chest from his free front paw several times. He's hanging on and fights viciously… but he remains wide open. Using his opponent's complete lack of defence, Talon pushes down with fierce force his left front paw, his reinforcing dogteeth pointed down to the tom's ribcage. With barely any noise at all, the long false claws sink deep into the chest of the struggling rogue. For a brief moment, the brown street cat stops his swipes, eyes wide, almost as if in mild surprise. The next breath the floored cat attempts to take, does not work, descending him into a coughing fit. The coughing rapidly becomes more violent, more and more blood being spewed out with each consecutive one. Talon finally lets go of the rogue's leg and pulls back his paw before taking several steps back. The brown tom continues convulsing and coughing, though already he appears to get weaker by the moment.
Letting the rogue die on his own, Talon looks down himself, hissing at the sight of the badly stinging wounds on his chest, his blood drooling down from his pelt onto the snow in a slow but steady stream almost. Grief and anger seem potent motivators it seems. The dark grey leader takes a few deep nasal breaths of the icy air. Despite the pain, there is some amount of solace in the aftermath of battle. His thoughts are calmer, the stress seems quieted down for now. Looking up, Talon finds the last of the other battles coming to an end as a grey, white and russet tortoiseshell rogue struggles under Sparrow, before a firm bite to the neck brings quiet back to the alley. All quiet, for a moment, calm, as pleasant as it is oddly eery, before the several of the Bloodclan warriors raise their heads and howl in triumph. Talon leaps up to Gravel's side on the dumpsters, overlooking the scene as the clanmates begin congratulating and boasting to each other, a few expressing their concern over injuries. Talon is surprised to see Frost limping rater badly, not that it appears to counteract the white tom's pleased grin as he speaks with Owl and Castle.
„Another victory for Bloodclan"
Talon is mildly surprised to hear the voice of the she-cat beside him, turning to see that even the often serious half-tailed female seems to hold a confident little smile.
„Appears so. When word gets around, it should keep other rogues away again for a while. Maybe better that this happened now. I'd rather the rest of leafbare be quiet. We'll be busy enough"
Gravel nods and hums quietly as she looks over the other cats.
„Fierce one, yours. Chose your opponent well."
Talon sits down, lifting his paw to lap off the blood, only to noice with some amount of annoyance that one of his dogeteeth has it's tip broken off. Must have struck the ribcage and cracked. Beholding the fractured bone, Talon replies
„I think Moon's foe was his mate or something like that. Was in a mood to fight us all by himself after that. Of all the mistakes he made today, I can't blame him for that one"
Gravel seems to grow thoughtful at that, her shortened tail swaying behind her.
„That so? I thought I was mistaken but earlier I thought I smelled…"
Talon looks over to the she-cat, his head slightly tilted at first before he stops that, it creating a very uncomfortable pulling in his new wound
„What's wrong, Gravel?"
The grey female looks over the other warriors, her gaze resting on Moon
„Moon! Can you check your fight? I got a suspicion about something"
The black pelted veteran warrior looks up to Gravel questioningly, before looking on to Talon for confirmation. Intrigued as to what Gravel might have picked up on, Talon nods down at Moon. With a quiet huff, the experienced she-cat trots over to the fallen rogue she battled. At first she seems somewhat aimless, not knowing what she is supposed to look for, until she opens her mouth to respond but stops herself. Tasting the air for scent, she descends her nose down to the dead she-cat, a thoughtful hum escaping her before she looks up at Gravel with an expression Talon finds hard to read. The grey striped warrior beside him sighs
„Life in twoleg-place ever remains the same, it seems."
Moon continues seeking for scent, following a trace after a moment, disappearing behind the dumpsters in it's pursuit. By now the matter has gripped the attention of all Bloodclan cats present, their eyes fixed on where Moon disappeared to a moment ago. After some rustling, high pitched mewls arise from behind the dumpsters. Mere heartbeats later, Moon pushes back through, stepping out to the rest of the patrol, a small kitten dangling by it's scruff from her jaws. Talon leaps off the dumpsters to approach, hearing the impact of Gravel landing close behind him. Moon turns towards the red eyed tom as he steps closer, observing the kit. A little she-cat, very young indeed still, her eyes still remaining shut, mewling a lament about the cold wind she's exposed to now. A brown coat, quite like her presumed father, except for the paws, which are a sand colour, as her likely mother. Talon hums, at the sight
„Must have been a very recent litter… Any others?"
Moon softly shakes her head, conscious not to shake the little one too much. Gravel sits down beside Moon, giving the kit a sniff
„Still on milk. As I thought. Question is, does it even make sense to take it in? Does either Viper or Daze even still have milk?"
Castle steps up closer, first eyeing the found little one before turning to Talon
„Daze still did a short while ago that I know of. Maybe it's not all gone yet"
Owl hums in his deep and gruff elderly voice
„What if she doesn't anymore? Or does not wish to nurse a orphaned rogue? No point keeping it if it will just starve amongst us"
Gash scoffs, casting a brief glare at the elderly warrior
„You seem very eager to forget that almost all of us first generation Bloodclan warriors used to be rogues at some point. You were no kitty-pet either, were you?"
As Owl just gives a scoff and a roll of the eyes as answer, Gash looks to Talon
„We should try and ask at least. If Daze can't or won't, we could still give her to some kitty-pets, see if the twolegs might take her."
Talon hums quietly, thinking through the matter, returning Gash's gaze from the corner of his eye. Father to a daughter himself, his opinion can only be biased, but that doesn't mean by any means that it is a bad plan in and of itself. Talon's red eyes move back to the kitten, shivering slightly from the cold. Being alone is twoleg-place is rough, he knows it all too well.
„…We're taking her with us for now. Maybe Venom can help out Daze if milk is the problem. But she needs to get into the warm soon, or the choice will be made for us. Moon, take Gravel and Wax with you, run on ahead to the alley. Venom can take a look at her and she'll be warmer in a nest. The wounded come with me, we go back at our own pace, slow enough to leave no-one alone and unprotected. If we missed any, we should not take risks. The rest use the opportunity to see if anything worth grabbing is there today, then join up with me on our way back."
Moon nods, immediately setting off back where they came from, Wax and Gravel rapidly bounding after her. All without injuries begin leaping up to the dumpsters, diving in in their search for any tangible food rests.
Letting out a little huff, Talon turns and signals with his tail the remaining warriors into following him. The multitude of gashes on his chest stinging more fiercely now with the rush of battle slowly mellowing down, he observes the other wounded as they set upon their way back. Frost's leg appears to have a nasty bite mark upon it, beside a few small scratches here or there, the white furred tom being the slowest of the group for now, thus giving the pace for the others. Rat meanwhile grumbles in slight frustration, having to shake his head regularly as a gash on his forehead keeps bleeding down into his eyes, as well as having earned another nick in his left ear and a clean, deep clawmark on his left shoulder. Spider is the least injured of the wounded, striding confidently despite the gash running down his right cheek, having slightly nicked his brown collar and staining it in his own slowly trickling blood. Keeping around Frost, whom despite his injury seems among the highest in spirit among them, they slowly make their way home, exchanging accounts of their battle with a fair amount of boasts among them, trails of the blood leaving their wounds painting their path in the shallow snow.