In the shade of the horse-place's barn, peering out past the fences, Talon remains motionless. The neigh of some of the horses inside is almost all noise that can be heard, alongside with the distant rumbling of twoleg monsters, despite the amount of warriors huddled together. No words are spoken, anticipation thick in the air. At last, movement before Talon. Two pelts rushing from Windclan territory back towards them. The moon shines somewhat dimly tonight and many stars are veiled behind clouds, it'd be difficult to recognise the cats approaching, if they didn't seem to know exactly where to run, no doubt or undue caution as they race closer to the Bloodclan cats. Only once they are almost at the fences, do enough features become visible in the gloomed light to identify Rover and Sparrow. Slowing in their final steps until they come to a halt, both are breathing hard, but the sparkle in Rover's eye brings an optimistic joy to Talon.
„Has the camp been found and is the patrol gone?"
Sparrow nods and tries to speak, but the run back seems to have taken a bit more out of the new veteran warrior. A brief moment later, seeing this, Rover takes a step forward to report instead.
„All is ready. They've left, never knew they were being observed."
Rover stops himself, though just barely, but Talon can tell the words aching to leave his clanmate's mouth; the moment to strike is now. And true it is. With a nod, Talon turns to the other cats, all up on their paws, the news invigorating them, every last one eager to see this through. Frost stands by his side, confidence and determination in his gaze as he looks out over the grounds of Windclan. Catching his leader's lingering attention, he gives a firm confirming nod with a small grin the tip of one of his fangs peaking out from beneath his lips, glistening in the pale light.
„The time is now. Give the command and we'll bring you victory, Talon."
A brief chuckle escapes Talon, his bushy tail brushing the ground a few times.
„I have no doubt about that, Frost."
His eyes moving over the rest of the crowd again, head held high as the cold breeze slightly ruffles his pelt.
„I know that we will succeed tonight. We have successfully raided one of their clan before, and Windclan is no more an obstacle to us than Thunderclan is. We all know what to do, we all know what to look for. We move fast and we move decisive. Just remember, if we start killing, they will have no reason to keep complying and remaining docile and if a fight breaks out we can't guarantee that their patrol wont return before it's over, or a messenger might escape in the chaos. Keep your claws dry, but make them understand that if they do become foolish, they might pay a bitter price for it. They will learn the same lesson the rogues did many times, let them fear us and know that opposing Bloodclan never comes cheap."
Nods, grins flashing sharp teeth to the night, eager eyes sparkling brighter than the few stars that dared show themselves tonight and approving murmurs arise from the patrol, their eyes fixed on Talon. Though, deeply hidden behind the façade of his expression, doubt, worry that tonight might end in blood afterall remain, the sight before him eases these uncertainties. These cats trust him, believe fervently in his plan. This will work, it can't not work. Even Frost, who's doubts about keeping it bloodless were well known to more than just Talon, seems to be bursting with motivation. Slowly turning, readying to lead the patrol onwards, following Sparrow and Rover's guidance, Talon's eyes remain upon Grail for a heartbeat, her golden gaze meeting his red, the briefest exchange of wordless admiration. Short as it was, as Talon strides forth, his two scouts directing and all others falling in behind to follow him, it seems as though the chilled night was just a little less cold. Perhaps another day he would have tried to push the feeling further aside, force a clear head upon himself, but the journey to the Windclan camp would doubtlessly take at least a bit of time and, at least for now, he finds an encouraging comfort in it, in the knowledge of her presence. He can't let it go to his head once they arrive, once he'll need all of his attention to keep the situation contained, to keep his promises to both Ashfur and Venom, but for now it shall warm his bones and strengthen his limbs unobstructed.
The run through marshland and grassy planes, only interrupted by small, semi-regular hills drags on. The reason for Sparrow's lack of breath earlier becomes increasingly apparent. Even from the horse-place, the closest point to their target they could have gathered at, the camp is still on the other side of the territory, it's entire length now the path Talon's patrol must venture. Regardless, their journey to the twoleg meat-place was longer. A quiet scoff, lost to the night, escapes Talon, the warmth fading as his thoughts turn to faces, a pair of faces on the wrong side of a pane of glass. No, not now. It does not help them to think of it now. He could only help most his cats, not all. He couldn't help… but tonight is different, no such risk tonight. Their target, their approach, all is different. The result will be different. Shaking his head firmly to rid himself of thoughts and memories that would only hinder him tonight, he notices the slowing pace of the two scouts guiding his path just in time to come to a halt between the two of them.
The grass grows tall here, the first droplets of dew glistening on the long blades, atop the small hill the Bloodclan raiding party now halts. Below, the grasslands stretch a little further, before a gulch, almost a crater, dips into the ground, free of grass. It could have passed as a mere feature of the landscape, were the scent of cats not strong in the air here, or the few larger rocks within the gulch conveniently auspicious in their placement, offering clear shelter beneath. After several heartbeats of observation, Talon spots movement. Not much, small dark lumps on the ground in the light starved night turning, briefly sitting up before laying down again… There can be no doubt, Windclan's camp lies before them. But they cannot stay. Even without the possibility of their gathering patrol returning, a simple turn of the wind could steal away their element of surprise. Voice as a whisper, Talon slightly turns his head towards Sparrow.
„We know if there's a night guard?"
The brown tom nods, pointing with one of his dogteeth towards the edge of the camp. A shallow ravine, most likely their main entrance and exit… and after just a few moments, Talon believes to spot a brief motion, a head slightly turning, mostly hidden between tufts of high grown grasses and reeds that wind around part of the crater's outer edge like a mane. After a slow nod, Talon turns to find Frost, the white tom close-by, his tail tip flicking side to side with impatience.
„The guard is yours. Let the others pass before dragging him in."
As Frost positively beams at his given task, Talon looks over the others, ears perking up at the quiet orders all presume are about to be given.
„We move down the hill fast, can't let them spot our approach. We approach the entrance along the side of the camp, but keep a little distance from it. The grass won't fully hide us. If they see out silhouettes over the ridge, they'll know something is wrong. The moment we hear Frost dealing with the guard, we rush in. You all know the plan from there on out. No room for mistakes."
A silent wave of nods goes through the warriors, eyes remaining fixed on Talon, only the occasional gaze trailing off to behold the Windclan camp down below. It's now or never… and Talon can not back out at this point anymore. The only way is forward. The only acceptable outcome is victory. Slowly turning back towards their target, he begins the descend down the hill, starting at a quick trot and accelerating into a sprint down the hillside. The sound of paws, dozens, following close behind, the soft ground swallowing the treacherous clacking their reinforcing claws would make upon the hard asphalt of their home. The run takes but instants, before Talon arrives near the edge of the gulch keeping himself in a low hunter's crawl to from here keep advancing along the camp's side. The noise grows more quiet the more of his clanmates arrive and mimic the same way to advance further. The soft earth makes sneaking so much easier here… a brief thought crossing Talon's mind, quick to be banished as he tries to keep his entire focus on their move forward. The already slow stalk comes to a halt near the corner that turns to the side in which the passage, and the guard, are located. Only the softest rustle still sounds, as Frost moves up, briefly stopping aside Talon to receive the final go ahead. Talon lets his eyes move from the white pelted veteran warrior to the corner and back to him, a quick acknowledging nod from Frost being the last exchange before the former second-in-command quickly and quietly darts forth, low enough for even the shallowest of greeneries to brush against his belly.
The moment lasts, lasts longer than Talon takes comfort in. There is no sound, no indication of confrontation. Frozen in his low position, a mild pulling in his muscles adds to the dark grey tom's discomfort, but he does not allow himself to lie down. The moment there is sound, and there must be soon, one way or another, he must move. First to help, or better yet, first in the foreign camp. Hearing the beating of his own heart after the little sprint, Talon remains, motionless, the moment dragging on painfully. Until at last, it begins.
At the sound of spitting hisses, Talon bounds forth like a wound un spring, around the corner, racing to the shallow ravine. There is only the blink of an eye's worth of time to register the scene. Frost managed to get behind the guard, a tabby tom. The Bloodclan cat's teeth sunk deep into the Windclan nape, keeping him down, but as the very energetic struggling indicates, not into the spine. Never stopping in his movement, Talon races past, down into the camp. On the drier, harder ground, the familiar clacking of dogteeth, his own and many others behind him. Eyes, sparkling in alarm all throughout the camp, heads looking up, confused, alarmed, murmuring arising to aloud talking, within moments of Talon's emergence growing into shouting. No time to pick adversaries, there are not here for a fight… With a strong leap, Talon pounces upon the closest cat to him. Not yet fully aware of what's going on, the smaller brown tom fails to muster up any decent defence by the time Talon's weight crushes down upon him. His struggle is forceful, but yields little results as within a heartbeat, Talon's paw pushed down upon his neck, claws unsheathed and slightly digging into the soft flesh below. Left with few options but to vainfully try to kick with his hind legs, the amber eyed warrior can only glare and hiss. It would be so simple to stop his struggles… years of ingrained instincts whisper for Talon to commit to that minuscule last bit of effort, to pull his paw to the side, end the threat and turn his attention to the next. With a deep breath, Talon pushes the need aside, though it leaves a feeling of lacking accomplishment in his chest. A foe bested, but permitted to continue being a potential threat in the future. His need to keep to his logic and promise hold firm against it. These are not rogues, they do not function like rogues… keeping him, keeping them alive is the logically sounder path.
After a few heartbeats of gathering himself, his enemy firmly kept down, Talon looks around to get a sense of the situation. A brief moment of tension arises, as another Windclan cat is racing straight for the Bloodclan leader. Small, young, but with unmistakable ferocity in his gaze, the jet black tom darts towards his quarry, piercing amber eyes focused on his enemy, too focused. Leaping straight for Talon, mid-air the familiar pelt of Grail collides with him, sending the both of them crashing to the ground. As they arise and face off several other such battles have already broken out. At least two other Windclan warriors have already been pinned, held down as their captors await the end of the skirmish. The camp, well and fully reawakened and up, scrambles to leap into the fray, but in several cases already the tactic begins to work. Windclan warriors approaching Bloodclan warriors, but hesitating to attack, lest the captive come to harm. Looks of confusion, worry and fury spread across the Windclan warriors as the battle rapidly loses it's movement. The entire Bloodclan patrol standing within the camp, those without a hostage backing up their clanmates that do, standing beside or in front of them, like protecting walls. Several of Talon's warriors seem to struggle with the same internal conflict as the red eyed leader a moment ago, the outcome of real fights ending with their foes alive and squirming meeting varying degrees of annoyance in the Bloodclan cats. So very against anything they are used to. But used to following orders, they are, and, some compromising with a rougher handling of their captives, all do avoid the final lethal blow. The howls of battle increasingly give way to nervous whispers and cursing. Soon only one place remains aloud with the sound of battle, attracting many eyes from Windclan and Bloodclan alike, turning it from a fight to a spectacle duel. Talon's gaze falls back onto the confrontation of the young Windclan tom and Grail, brief periods of circling each other continuously interrupted by strikes, pounces and dodges, a few wounds dripping crimson onto the earth beneath both of them. The dark pelted leader's attention is drawn to Grail. Her eyes are focused, her stances good, her concentration undeniable. The slightest shudders are moving through her right front leg, but her form holds, her ear flicks, but in her focus she seems not even to register it. A mild feeling of relief arises in Talon. Perhaps his caution really was baseless. She can fight still. If her condition impacted her ability, she must have found ways around most of it by now. There are benefits to having siblings to train with daily, no doubt. She is in no need of protection. She remains a warrior, as ever she was.
Though her opponent was a daring pick. With fierce determination and a rage filled drive to push his ever advantage as aggressively as he can, the young one shows promise for his age. Grail fights no worse than most Bloodclan warriors, yet while taking more strikes than he manages to deal, the black young one keeps pace surprisingly well. Were it not for the stakes of tonight's venture, it would have been nothing short of entertaining to behold this match. At last, Grail buckles on her right side, an instant of worry arising in Talon that perhaps not all is well after all, but as the young one leaps in to try and exploit the seeming moment of weakness, Grail reveals her feint, pushing herself off towards the left. Just before the amber eyed tom lands on empty space, a swipe pulls his front paws from under him, sending him to the ground on his side to bear the entire impact of his leap and weight. Though wincing, he tries to roll over to get back onto his paws, only for Grail's paw to descend forcefully onto his chest, her dogteeth pointed up towards his throat. Unwilling to concede defeat, the young one tries to swipe her paw aside with one of his own and roll over still, only for the attempt to come to a quick end as Grail simply pushes her paw upwards, the tips of her reinforcing claws pushing firmly against his throat. A good fight. With the right training, this one could become a fierce warrior. A pity. A bit hot-headed by the seems of it, but Bloodclan could have used such talent. But that cannot matter now.
The situation having come to a halt at last, Talon looks over to Clover, motioning the she-cat over to take over the still squirming tom he is holding pinned. With a nod of acknowledgement, the tortoiseshell does as instructed, the brown, black eared tom's inevitable attempt to skitter out of his predicament resulting with him tripped and held beneath his new guardian. Good. Good! So far there has been no deaths, all is working… now it's Talon's part. He shakes out his pelt, striding a few pawsteps further, standing between the two lines that have formed, the Bloodclan cats and their hostages and the Windclan cats, their scanning for openings interrupted as their attention turns towards Talon.
„Your clanmates will be fine. Provided no one attempts anything overly foolish. Remain out of our way, and we will leave without anyone coming to more harm. We have no need for bloodshed, but any challenge will have dire consequences. "
„And what guarantee do we have for that?"
A voice arises as one of the Windclan cats strides closer to meet Talon. A pelt dark enough to disappear near seamless into the sparingly illuminated night, with the only exception of sparkling blue eyes. The Windclan cat holds Talon's gaze with seriousness. There is rage behind his stare, but little of it put too openly on display. Sleek, like most Windclan cats, but his stance despite the situation is imperious. There is no fear in this one. Odd. According to Ashfur, second-in-commands, or ´deputies' are supposed to be present at gatherings. This warrior shows all the signs of holding importance, but these clans have no veteran warriors. He may not hold a title, but judging by his approach and the silence of his clan when he spoke up, clearly he holds some sway here. Perhaps a trusted senior warrior? Striking him down would hush the rest instantly.
The very moment Talon becomes aware of his last thought, frustration grows within him. No, they are not rogues… they follow different rules. They follow ANY rules to begin with. The dark grey Bloodclan tom realises how much he'd underestimated how much this would be a struggle for himself, presumably for all his clanmates. He'd been too focused on worrying about Frost as the one to openly talk of it, that he forgot how it might be for all those that didn't speak up. Maybe he did ask more of his warriors than he'd originally realised. All the more impressive, in his mind, that it all went without any bloody accidents still.
„You have none but my word. That and precedence. We chose against killing Thunderclan cats on our last raid. You are no more our enemies than they are. And we want the same here as we did there."
The Windclan warrior's eyes narrow, observing Talon for a heartbeat before continuing, tail lashing behind him
„Herbs? Why?"
„Our reasons are the last of your concerns currently"
The blue eyed warrior's claws dig into the ground beneath, his pelt just barely being kept from standing up in spikes. It seems his rage is becoming harder to suppress. Perhaps not quite as imperious after all…
„This will not happen again. Next time any Bloodclan foxheart shows themself on Windclan territory, they'll leave without a tail."
„We shall see. Will you stand aside?"
Visibly grinding his teeth, the Windclan cat holds in for a bit. As he opens his mouth to reply though, a voice rings out from behind him.
„Crowfeather, please, you must get him ba…"
The warrior's head snaps around, firing a piercing glare to his clanmate that spoke up, a just as black pelted she-cat, amber eyes filled with dreadful worry, in absolute disregard to the sharp look she's receiving.
„NOT now, Nightcloud! You're not helping."
Talon follows the she-cat's gaze as it moves back and forth from Crowfeather to somewhere else, past Talon. Sure enough, her concern is for one of the hostages, the young one Grail defeated. Three black pelts in one camp… so that's how it is.
With a hum, Talon turns back toward Crowfeather, whom in turn returned his attention to Talon.
„Your son will not be harmed. If you comply. We get what we want, you retain what you want. As long as we get what we want, killing him would earn us nothing. But provoking us could cost you much"
Crowfeather's glare remains squarely on Talon, a moment of silence ensuing.
„You will leave, and you will release all our clanmates, no one will be harmed."
Talon slowly nods. To a Windclan cat the gesture may mean nothing, but perhaps they could read the situation enough to see the weight of it all the same. Talon raises one of his paws to his collar, hooking his claws into the upper edge of the leather.
„I swear. Comply and all will be released, unharmed"
A scoff escapes Crowfeather, Talon's vow clearly not impressing the tom much, but a few heartbeats later he steps aside, looking over to a cracked boulder, in the crack of which a young, visibly frightened mottled tom stands, observing the whole situation, shrinking under Crowfeather's gaze as it turns to him.
„Let them through, Kestrelpaw. We will not sacrifice clanmates for the sake of some plants."
„COWARD!"
Talon turns his head, to find the black furred young one redoubling his struggle, in his eyes a fury the likes of which could have come from Wrath himself as he beholds his presumed father.
„You'd surrender to Windclan's enemies without even fighting? You call yourself a warrior? We should fight, defend our territory!"
„We will not let clanmates die because of your pride, Breezepaw! The clan comes first, always, and you will be quiet!"
Surprising Talon, Crowfeather's tone is every bit as loud and forceful as his offspring's, and yet, it does not sound quite the same. Breezepaw's voice holds nothing less than absolute contempt, loathing thick enough to ooze from every word. Crowfeather's seems… somewhere between annoyedly bored and exhausted. Strong, unmistakably displeased, but it is clear that much strength has been spent already. This seem not to be the first confrontation between them. Or are there yet other reasons? With a quiet hum, Talon turns to his clanmates and motions to the boulder. This family feud is not his to get involved in either way. He is here for one thing and one thing only. Understanding immediately, most Bloodclan cats without someone to hold down move forth, Rover taking the lead in guiding the others to their prize. Windclan moves out of the way, hateful looks and spitting hisses accompanying the Bloodclan warriors passing them, but none seem to attempt themselves at a fight. The young tom by the boulder, Kestrelpaw, bounds aside, watching well disturbed as the warriors enter the den, soon to reemerge, mawfulls of herbs carried away. Almost done… almost. Talon looks over to Breezepaw, struggling on under Grail, giving the she-cat almost more trouble now than during their fight. He might try something once released… Perhaps it'd be wiser to prepare for that. They're almost good to go.
Talon pads over to Grail's side, waiting for the last to emerge from the medicine den, for all they can take to be secured. Soon that is done, the final Bloodclan warrior, Aspen, arising from the crack with but a few leaves in her maw, sending a cautionary hiss at a Windclan warrior standing a bit too close for her liking, before with quick, lithe steps rejoining the rest of the patrol. Talon looks over his cats, giving a pleased nod.
„Good. We got what we came for, let's go. The route we discussed. Let's go!"
At Talon's signal, the Bloodclan warriors release their hostages, some by simply leaping off of them, others following Castle's quick example in flinging them out from under themselves by their neck and towards the rest of Windclan, before quickly finding their way up the small ravine and out of the camp.
As soon as Grail gets off of her foe as well, the young Windclan tom wastes no time winding over onto his paws, readying to pounce and resume their previous battle. Before he gets a chance to leap, Talon crashes into him with his full might, sending a surprised Breezepaw flying backwards, towards his presumed mother, that's already dashing forth at full pace. By the time the she-cat has defensively curled around the furiously hissing young one, Talon and Grail are both already dashing up the ravine. It´s done, they succeeded. Now all that´s left is to get out and home.
The rest of the patrol already waiting, immediately sets into motion as Talon arises to them, Frost still holding down the tabby guard, who's equally enraged and fearful amber eyes follow Talon closely.
„Release him, Frost. We're leaving, now!."
Frost grumbles quietly, looking down at the tom under him for but a moment, but ultimately opens his jaws and stands up. Hissing and rubbing his bleeding neck, the tom scurries several steps backwards, away from the departing patrol of Bloodclan warriors. Wordlessly, the white veteran warrior bounds over into the thick of the patrol, Talon and Grail right behind the rest.
After an initial sprint to gain some distance from the camp, journey back goes slower than their storm towards the Windclan camp, once the Bloodclan cats arrive at the river, now needing to do nothing more than to follow it and keep going straight once it bends towards the distant mountains. No need for speed and running now. Sure enough, a Windclan patrol had begun following them, trailing them at a safe distance behind them. No doubt making sure the Bloodclan cats are actually leaving the territory. No matter. They´d be approaching faster if they wanted a fight, and anything short of that is fine by Talon for all he cares. They got what they came for, no-one died, Venom might not use his pelt as nesting material just yet. Visibly pleased, Talon continues padding along, the other warriors, those who`s maws are not filled with strange tasting plants, are already brightening the mood with accounts of their fight and the at times fairly desperate attempts of their captives to wind themselves out from under them. There is laughter, a few wounds, and most importantly victory. A smile creeps onto Talon`s face. It was certainly unlike anything they`d done before, and yet the feeling after is pleasantly familiar. A feeling of good times now in the past, getting to bloom up again. Grail remains at his side, a few swipes letting her blood glisten in the moonlight, but nothing serious.
„You fought well. You certainly had a lively one."
The russet warrior looks over, a bit surprised at Talon breaking the silence, before a content smile forms on her and she nods.
„I don`t think I`d have fought like that when I was that size. It was good to be in a battle again, even if it ended a bit… awkwardly? But your plan worked, as I knew it would."
„Apparently so. We should be well equipped to get through the rest of leafbare now. With a bit of luck, we won`t need any such expeditions for a pleasant while now. Focus on the the clan. Focus on us for a change"
Padding along after the others, it takes a little while, before the flicking of Grail`s ear in the corner of his vision brings his gaze back to her, finding an embaressed, but not unhappy smile upon her. He scoffs softly, looking away.
„Maybe I should have have phrased that differently. Or… perhaps not. I hope you forgive me for my poor handling of… us."
„There is nothing to forgive. And… I`d welcome it."
Talon nods slowly, the chill of the leafbare night no longer reaching him, warmth flooding his pelt. As they leave behind the forest clan territories, he glances over at Grail, for nought but to admire her joy, when he discovers a sparkle at some distance, robbing him of some of the joyful notion. Eyes, eyes by the river, the other side of it. Can`t be Windclan then… Without turning his head too much to give himself away, he tries to scan it more closely. Blue? Could it be Ashfur then? He should know better… or is it someone else? An unpleasant feeling forms in Talon`s gut, but with one he tries to shake for now. No, today has been won, there is no point in souring it with such worries now. A problem for another day, if at all. Right now, the walk home alongside Grail shall not be spoiled by anything.