Ashfur looks around the camp as he returns from hunting, even with the sun-high sun pushing down the temperature slowly dropping. It's his second hunt for today, but he'd probably go on at least one more today. The camp remains in a state of shock after last night's attack, but the clan still needs to be fed and with the stolen fresh-kill that just means more hunting for every cat not doing something else. This time is more meagre, a field mouse dangling from the grey warrior's muzzle, his earlier hunt had at least gotten him a reasonably well nourished toad from the riverbank. Not that the clan much cared for it, toads were more Shadowclan's kind of prey, but right now being choosy was no option. Leafpool hurries past him and towards the medicine den, a small bushel of herbs in her muzzle. Though the she-cat unavoidable reminds him of her sister, he somewhat feels for her after this raid. Her supplies stolen, her apprentice held down by those rogues… With leafbare coming, the medicine cat is terrified of having to watch a wave of green-cough wash over the camp with no herbs to treat them, and so she's been running restlessly back and forth trying to gather new herbs since first light, and that after a sleepless night after the Gathering. The fatigue is clearly visible in her face. Cloudtail brushes past Ashfur as well, murmuring an excuse before running along after Leafpool. Understandably, Firestar had refused to let her leave camp without a guard if Bloodclan might be lurking nearby, and so his nephew too got to run along the medicine cat, ironically looking closer to collapsing still than she does. Under different circumstances, Ashfur would have found some humour in this, but not today. Hawkfrost spoke of a collar wearing cat having been close-by several times at his spot by the river… could that have been a Bloodclan warrior spying? Could he have prevented the attack or at least known of it if he'd been more perceptive? As he drops his catch on the fresh-kill pile, he observes the camp. Brackenfur is currently guarding the entrance to the camp, a measure the clan usually doesn't take during the day. Though his pride does not allow him to show it, the tom is clearly shaken up. He'd been part of the last battle against Bloodclan, he felt their claws before, saw how close the clans came to being driven out from their home. Hard to believe that now, after so much time, so far from their old forrest, they'd still be haunted by them.
The grey warrior looks up to the leader's den, seeing Firestar along with most of his family, speaking to and comforting them. His mate Sandstorm, his daughter Squirrelflight, as well as Hollypaw and Lionpaw. The only reason Jaypaw isn't among his siblings is because he is needed to keep an eye on Greystripe in the medicine den, who got himself injured trying to fend the Bloodclan cats off, while Leafpool keeps making runs for new herbs. How soothing the medicine cat apprentice is supposed to be to his wounded clanmate while still and continuously grumbling curses after having apparently been held down during the attack is a matter of it's own. Graystripe had received a deep slash to the leg, a haunting reminder of Bloodclan's ferocity and the reinforced claws some of them had… or still have it now seems. The wound was clean, but deep according to Leafpool, the warrior would recover if only she could find the herbs to chew into poultice to keep it from getting infected.
Eyes still lingering on his leader's family, Ashfur quietly hisses to himself and tears his gaze away from them, away from her. Even now, with so much better things to worry about, the tearing pain in the tom's chest flares up at just her sight. Staying here would not be helpful, he'd only keep having to avoid either Squirrelflight, or Brambleclaw, whom continuously sends out patrols, the thought of Jawpaw having been at Bloodclan's mercy visibly getting to him.
Having to endure the company of a patrol full of stressed out cats is not sounding very enticing to Ashfur right now, and so, with a sigh, he makes his way back towards the camp's entrance for his third hunt of the day. Someone has to do it either way, might as well be him. But where to go next? As he emerges on the other side, padding off into the forrest, the blue eyes cat wonders what his next hunting grounds should be. The area near the Shadowclan border only yielded a mouse and not much promise of more, hunting by the river had earned him the toad, along with the glares of a nervous Windclan patrol on the other side of the border. Firestar's very first action had been to send out messengers to warn the other clans of what happened, it is currently impossible to not run into patrols near the border. Except perhaps… The Bloodclan cats retreated, so perhaps around the border to the twoleg place might be safe to travel and hunt. Firestar would certainly discourage it, but the orange leader is not here and the clan needs the fresh-kill.
Padding over at a comfortable speed, Ashfur's thoughts wander anew, back to Hawkfrost's claim, the scent at his spot. Surely it could not have been a Bloodclan cat after all. If it had been, why would it not have attacked him? With some shame, he has to admit that he would have been an easy target, and Bloodclan cats are bloodthirsty rogues. Their former leader was called Scourge, which sums them up quite well. He slowly shakes his head. Maybe the Riverclan warrior lied to him, he seemed the type to find amusement in spooking him. Maybe, but right now the Thunderclan warrior tries clearing his head from his thoughts, as he raises his muzzle up and tastes the air for any scents. For now his duty is to catch fresh-kill for the clan.
As the grey warriors pads back to camp, a robin dangling from his jaws this time, he quietly hums to himself. The hunt has been longer than he'd hoped and ended not very spectacularly, but anything will help. Pushing through the entrance to enter the camp, he spots yet another patrol in the making. Thornclaw leads this one it seems as the brown furred warrior discusses the route with Brambleclaw, the patrol readily assembled behind him already. He pulls his eyes away from the scene the moment he spots bright orange fur among the patrol members. Not now, if anything it's a good thing. With her out of camp, maybe he could get a moment of respite here. By the time he arrives by the fresh-kill pile to drop his catch, the group is already leaving the camp. Letting out a small sigh of relief, Ashfur wanders over to the medicine den. He hasn't checked on Greystripe yet. Not that he particularly feels the personal need to, rather then the expectation that that would be asked of him as warrior and clanmate. He steps into the den, the smell of herbs hitting his nostrils. Moving in deeper, he finds Greystripe in one of the nests, seemingly soundly asleep, his injured leg stretched out. The wound is no longer visible under the leafs and cobwebs applied to it, sealing it shut to heal, but the amount of it speaks volumes about the size of the covered injury.
„He's asleep. Finally. So don't wake him, or he will continue to harass us all with his incessant talking"
Ashfur looks over to the familiar voice of Jaypaw, the blind apprentice's eyes loosely directed at him. The usual hint of annoyance clear in the young cat's voice does little to endear him to Ashfur, though he did always feel like the feeling was mutual. Jaypaw seems to prefer staying at some distance from the grey warrior, as if his proximity brought the young cat tangible discomfort. Though that usually suits Ashfur just fine.
„He certainly looks as if he'll be fine right now"
The apprentice gives a small snarl
„We treated him right away, why wouldn't he?"
Ashfur rolls his eyes at the smaller cat's attitude, before looking on to the exhausted frame of Leafpool, sorting the leaves the she-cat slaved all day to acquire.
„What all did they take anyway? Seems to have been a lot"
Jaypaw's head turns towards his mentor, wether it's exhaustion or focus that made her miss out on the question being any cat's guess, both equally understandable in her current state. The apprentice shakes his head, speaking in her stead
„Easier to answer would be, what didn't they take. Bunch of foxdungs cleared away every single thing. Not a single leaf or seed was left. Leafpool and I have to gather everything anew, it will take several days to gather that amount again, if we can with leafbare approaching"
Ashfur tilts his head, a thoughtful look forming upon his face
„What would Bloodclan even want it all for? Do they even have medicin cats? They do not believe in Starclan"
„Do I look like I'd know, Ashfur? Nor do I care, all I know is that we have a lot of work now, little time to do it, and Firestar insists on sending warriors with us that are as useful as pebbles when it comes to herbs every step of the way"
The grey warrior hums at this, before shaking his head. He'd not care for this attitude from an apprentice towards warriors, but he neither has the desire nor the right headspace to lecture the little tom. It's not his apprentice to correct anyway.
„Alright then. I'll probably make yet another hunting run in a bit. Remind Leafpool to grab some fresh-kill and get rest. The clan won't be better off if our medicine cat ends up needing a medicine cat"
„And leave me to do all the work myself? Not going to happen, even if I have to feed her poppy seeds to calm down"
Ashfur nods and leaves, as Jaypaw pads over to help out his mentor. As the blue eyed tom strides through the camp, he finds himself wondering, deciding to give himself a small rest to soak up what little the descending sun was still willing to give before heading out yet again. Slumping down to the ground not far from the warrior's den, he finds himself losing himself in his thoughts. No cat died and they stole herbs? That hardly sounds like the Bloodclan he remembers. Memories flash back to him of the great battle so long ago as he absentmindedly grooms his fur, messed up and spikey after the hunting trips. The first and only time the four clans all banded together in a battle and still almost lost. He'd been no more than an apprentice back then, yet he remembers it vividly, most who fought in it still do. The wave of scarred, battle hardened rogues, their reinforced claws, the many cats that paid with their lives, the way their leader executed the tyrant Tigerstar… Most leaders lost some of their Starclan given lives in this fight. Those cats, they seemed so singular in their purpose, to take the forrest and sweep aside any cat in their way. If this raid was truly done by the same fierce rogues, how come no cats died? He shakes his head with a scoff, what an awful question to even ask himself, wondering why he doesn't have to mourn several of his clanmates. He should be glad that no cats were harmed too badly. Yet he cannot quite stop himself from pondering, are these truly the same cats? Either way, he'll have to continue Lionpaw's training once the initial shock is over and now he cannot talk his way around battle training, a prospect that tears any little sparks of enthusiasm the tom may have had straight out of him. His apprentice has talent, a lot of it, but temperament to match once he gets going and every time he looks into the young one's amber eyes, he sees Brambleclaw as Squirrelflight's mate. The grief of what isn't and the anger of what has come to be instead surge through him every time, and each time it just becomes harder to control. The struggle between finding the will to push past his trepidation and do training at all, and keeping himself from venting his feelings too much in the mock fights with his apprentice takes a toll on the grey warrior. It is present every time and no matter how much he wants, he can't quite shake it, Starclan knows he's tried. He's been close to injuring the young tom more than once, but that only seems to fire the combat loving apprentice on more most of the time. He sighs, slowly rising back onto his paws after a while. He'll just have to keep trying, at some point his apprentice will earn his warrior name and it will finally be out of Ashfur's paws. For now, he needs to resume hunting, the only task he currently still. Feels useful at. Leafbare approaches rapidly and the clan needs the fresh-kill. Grunting, he pushes himself forward. Fourth hunt of the day, after that he will need some rest himself. The next few days promise to be busy, he will need his strength. He wanders out of camp, looking around the forrest. So… where to try and hunt this time then?