Talon walks along beside Arbrarc, the cold air clouding their breath as they press on some way covered by now, yet the destination still some ways off. The hint of trepidation that Talon felt at the border before crossing it had been manageable, but now an uncanny feeling persists in the back of his mind. Crossing Wrath's territory, it remains familiar, Talon would still be able to navigate it for the most part, but it's glaring that things have changed. New twoleg dens have been build, larger than those they replace, more twolegs wander about, more monsters rumbling down the thunderpaths. The layout remains the same, the thunderpaths didn't change direction and the twoleg dens remain compliant with their pattern, yet the feeling of these parts has clearly changed. It'd be interesting to see what progress the twolegs have made on what once was the forest clans territories, but they won't get that far. A familiar sight pulls Talon from his thoughts, caution taking it's well deserved place. Steelsnake-place lies to the south from here, but the ironpaths extending from it run far further than Bloodclan knows, several of the right through here. Arbrarc turns to Talon, raising a paw as sign to stay back for a moment. The patrol stops as only the second-in-command proceeds on, up to the ironpath, the seemingly endlessly stretched iron lines protruding up from the ground. The tailless warrior softly presses his paw against the iron, the only somewhat safe way to test if it is safe to cross. Steelsnakes are fast, faster still than regular twoleg monsters and way larger. Even the monsters stay back and still at their crossings of the ironpath if a Steelsnake is about to thunder on by.

Feeling for vibrations in the iron for a few heartbeats, Arbrarc soon motions for the patrol to proceed, before effortlessly leaping over the iron and onward. Neither Talon and his cats, nor the rest of Arbrarc's patrol waste any time in following, knowing better than to waste time here. Rapidly hopping over several ironpaths running alongside each other, the cats soon make it to the other side. They proceed but a bit further, when several startled heads turn to the deafening noise of a huge steelsnake sliding along it's ironpath behind them, the very ground mildly shaking at it's passage. Talon observes the enormous thing until it has full passed. The biggest threat until they arrive should now be behind them, the deadly halfway point crossed. Fitting in a way, even Wrath's territory is dangerous above and beyond the norm. Slowly, the group moves along again, navigating the thunderpaths and alleys.

„Daring, taking a mate in these times."

Arbrarc's unexpected words leave Talon briefly stunned for words, as he keeps padding alongside the other red eyed tom. He must have noticed Grail leaving Talon's den back in the alley.

„Not mates. Not… yet, at any rate."

Arbrarc looks at Talon from the corner of his eye for a moment before nodding his head.

„Brave, still. But good for you. Things might have been easier for us all if Scourge would have had a mate and offspring. Although, considering everything, probably should specify: offspring that turned out somewhat like him"

Talon flicks his ear, listening in behind him. The rest of the cats walk at a bit of distance, leaving leader and second in the front, their discussion private for now

„Not surprised you'd want to specify. If Snake and Ice had turned out more like Bone, things might have been very different too"

Arbrarc slowly nods at this, eyes thoughtful

„Only current leader with a kit is Granite, and that seems to be as much of a curse as it is a blessing, the way they seem to get along"

Talon hesitates to answer for a heartbeat. He may not count as leader anymore technically, but Arbrarc would likely still include Kestrel, if he knew. Kestrel was wise to keep Rain's parentage a secret.

„Better that way for all of us, I think. I have no desire to face Flame on the battlefield just yet"

„True enough… it'd be the stroke that breaks the cat's back for us now. It's bad, Talon. We underestimated their numbers badly."

An exhausted sigh escapes the second-in-command. Talon's interest immediately rouses. Wrath won't tell him more than he absolutely has to, but Arbrarc might paint a more complete picture.

„How bad are we talking? We expect a number of wounded, but our supplies should suffice for at least the most critical work to be done, won't it?"

The second looks over his shoulder, observing for a moment Venom and her carriers, the bundles of plants they carry

„I think so. I hope so. Anything is an improvement currently. We'd barely gotten across the border when they were upon us… we put down a good number of them, but many of us just went down because there was no dodging that many claws. Wrath just exploded, I'd never seen such a thing. He is the only reason any of us survived the battle, the blood was running rivers on the asphalt. But even his fierceness didn't bestow him invulnerability. Wrath is in poor condition. We barely managed to keep him alive, but we have no healers. Venom might well be his only chance to survive this. That's why I'll have to take the fall on this…"

Talon raises an eyebrow at this, a sneaking suspicion beginning to grow.

„…Wrath never gave his consent for this, did he?"

Arbrarc continues walking, looking dead ahead, his expression hard to read

„A choice needed to be made. The others know. If it comes to it, I alone will face the consequence, you and yours are safe."

Talon scoffs quietly, shaking his head. The group crosses another thunderpath, making their way ever deeper into the territory.

„And you call my choices brave… there are easier ways to die than this."

„Would you not have done the same? You offered us help, you still speak of us all as one clan. You out of everyone I thought would understand."

Talon's response is a long period of silence. Would he have done the same? Under Wrath? More importantly perhaps, under Scourge? Things would have to be bad indeed to even consider it. As much respect as one should have had of Scourge, it'd have been foolish to ever forget to duly fear defying him. Wrath is much the same in that regard, without question.

Drawing close to Wrath's camp at last, Talon breaks the silence.

„Aside from Wrath, what should we expect. In fact, hold that thought a moment"

He looks back at Venom, beckoning her to approach with a wave of his tail. Bounding onward, Venom quickly catches up. She'll be the one doing most the work, she ought to hear this. Arbrarc nods, waiting for the she-cat to catch up before speaking, the sorrow of the situation reflected in stubbornly forward facing red eyes

„It's not good. Fang and Echo are both dead. Beside Wrath himself, who's more wound than cat by now, the worst of the injured is Wicker. Truth be told, I expect that by time we arrive, he won't be amidst us anymore either. The cats to care for now are Moss, Reborn, Bolt and Scream. You might need to be cautious with the latter, Hush has been orbiting his daughter closely ever since and is being very defensive. Fang's death took a heavy toll on him."

Talon's face distorts into a grimace, turning his head away as a teeth baring hiss escapes him. Everything he'd hoped to avoid himself and it'd likely be only the beginning going forward from here. Wrath won't forgive this and if one faction goes on the offensive, the others won't be idle for long anymore either. Fear and bloody opportunity will paint twolg-place red. Expression normalising, Talon looks over to Venom. The she-cat seems to sink into pondering after these news for a few heartbeats before returning Talon's gaze, mumbling through the pack of herbs between her jaws.

„Innfries? Phimbtoms?"

Talon gives an acknowledging look before turning back to Abrarc to translate the plant gagged words.

„What injuries are we looking at? Any specific symptoms that could point to deeper troubles or infections?"

Arbrarc lowers his head in thought a brief moment before answering

„Mostly claw-marks, number of deep ones at that. Moss took a nasty bite to her left hind flank. Beyond that, I'm not very sure. Wicker claimed to be burning up, the day after the battle. He was… barely there anymore when I left the alley today, quietly mumbling to himself, unable to move"

Venom listens closely, hanging on each spoken work. Her eyes cloud in intense thinking, seeming to try and come up with a plan to tackle the task before her.

„You'll see for yourselves in a moment. We arrive"

Moving quickly, the group is guided around the next corner, into Wrath's alley at last. Sin and Crimson, appearing to stand guard, just barely jump out of the way as the patrol pads past them. Immediately it becomes clear that almost the entire faction is present in the alley, heads turning, eyes beholding the newcomers to their home. Letting Arbrarc take the sole lead, Talon and his follow closely behind the grey tom. From the corner of his eye, Talon gauges the response of Wrath's cats to their being here. From what little he can gather without stopping his trot, the sentiments neither as diverse as he his faction's when Kestrel joined then, nor as united in dismay as he feared. Wariness, caution, plain in many's gaze, but while he feels several glares pierce him, there is less hostility then anticipated. Then the smell hits Talon. Blood, it's scent grows thicker on the icy breeze blowing through the further into the alley they get. Led to one large overturned dumpster, the second-in-command steps aside, letting Venom rush in on quick paws before either he or Talon have a chance to speak a word. With more trepidation, but dutiful devotion none the less, her carriers move in after the healer. At last, Talon steps in. The scene before him turns his stomach, fury heating his pelt at the sight. Arbrarc remains silent as he lets Talon take the lead, slowly padding through the makeshift healer's den. Reborn gazes up at Talon, deep gashes along his side, one of his ears reduced to a mere few strings of mangled fuzz under caked blood, smaller claw-marks littering his light shaded tabby pelt, the dried crimson forming whole new patterns. Strong of constitution, survivor of many gristly previous injuries, the severe discomfort he still can not hide as he lays in the visibly hurriedly made nest. Bolt is close-by, able to sit up, be it with obvious pain. The white and black tom's neck showcases a number of close calls, wounds aimed to end him that luckily did not go quite deep enough, alongside a deeper gash upside his head and a tail that changes direction too sharply at one point to be anything else than a fracture. Slowly Talon moves along, biting down hard his own teeth.

Moss does not manage to muster the strength to even look at the passing tom, curled up tight and softly shaking. The bite Arbrarc spoke of on display, Talon's burning anger only grows. A chunk is all out missing from her flank, despite the best amateurish attempts of Wrath's cats to cover it with webbing to stop the bleeding, the catastrophically wound still seems to slowly leak into her fur. Or is it pus? Neither is promising… All other wounds on her, of which there is a solid amount, appear nigh dismissible in comparison.

Before Talon can advance further, Venom pushes past. The herbs deposited and very roughly sorted, she immediately is upon Wicker, the next in line, rushing around and investigating the many wounds covering the poor tom. Deep gashes along his shoulders and flanks, cutting deep. Able to look only from a little distance, leaving Venom her room to work, he sees the shallow rising and ragged falling of Wicker's side as he breathes, half-lidded eyes staring emptily ahead. His maw slowly moving, forming words with no sound. Venom gently opens one of his wounds with her paws, only to find a small stream of pus beginning to flow forth from it, douring her already serious expression, before speaking

„Where's Wrath? We need to get some organisation into this mess."

Arbrarc, still following Talon, speaks up

„In his den. I was going to bring Talon before him when he was done in here."

„Is Wrath mobile? Can we get him in here?"

„With aid, perhaps, but it might not be…"

Venom fires a glare at Arbrarc, without a moment of care for where they are or rank, taking several steps towards the second-in-command

„The worst injured need to be in proximity of each other. If I waste damned time running left and right, they can die in the meantime, or one of the others does because my marathon leaves no time to check on them! Get Wrath in here, if you want me to keep him alive."

Taken aback a bit, Arbrarc looks from Venom to Talon. Talon sighs, shaking his head, before turning to Wrath's second.

„When it comes to healing, the healer knows best. She'll do what needs doing. It's time to see Wrath anyway. Lead me to him."

The grey furred second-in-command nods, casting one last look to Venom, whom has already returned to her patients. Arbrarc turns, giving Talon sign to follow as they make their way back out of the overturned dumpster. As the cold air lashes his face outside, the eyes of the entire faction find themselves upon him. Giving a silent huff, Talon feels his pads heating up under his paws. Letting his eyes wander along the gathered cats as he turns to follow Arbrarc. For a moment, Talon spots Argent, observing him, laying on a windowsill. Perhaps a chance to talk would offer itself later. Right now, there is a greater priority however. The prospect of facing Wrath, does not fill Talon with anticipation, even now. With Arbrarc going behind his back to enable this meeting to begin with, there is no reason to expect the fierce warrior leader to be in any favourable mood. Padding behind Arbrarc, he is brought before the entrance of an abandoned twoleg den. There is no mistaking it, Wrath's den, the scent confirms it. With a deep breath, burying the rising nervousness in the back if his mind deep, Talon steps forth, into the den, followed closely by Arbrarc. Barely a few steps in, the reflective shine of blazing green eyes stab into Talon from the far corner of the room.

„So you came… almost expected you to just send a patrol. Or worse yet, send that talker Kestrel in your stead"

Wrath's voice rumbles from the dark corner, his black fur letting him with all but his eyes blend perfectly into the shadow. Talon pads onward, leaving his own expression neutral. The less he gives Wrath to read him by, the better. A task more easily said than done, knowing his role here. He is in Wrath's territory, but he is here as leader himself, and as the one offering aid. He can not shrink before the massive tom he now approaches. Scourge's lessons will have to be observed if any of this is to be of any worth to him and his cats in the end.

„I promised aid, I bring it. It would not have done for me to just send a representative."

Wrath observes Talon for a moment, before his eyes turn to Arbrarc, narrowing.

„You promised aid to Arbrarc. I did not agree to put us in anyone's debt. Remember this, Talon. And I will not forget that my authority was misused, Arbrarc."

The second bows his head before his leader

„I serve to help you and our faction, Wrath. I accept the consequences, whatever they are. This was a chance I had to take. We need our strength to battle…"

„Our battle-plans, Arbrarc, are not something we will discuss in front of others! You, I will deal with in time. For now, leaders speak"

Wrath's voice thunders louder, a clear warning in his words as he glares at a now silenced Arbrarc.

„Now, you, Talon. What do you presume to get out of this? We have no food to share and we will not join you. We have a war to fight, clanmates to avenge. A pair of fools to part from their pelts when I get them under my claws…"

Stepping closer, eyes adapting to the gloom inside the den, Talon begins to recognise old scars amid the dark pelt of Wrath and by extension disruptions on them. Fresh wounds running over old ones. The more the red eyed leader approaches, the more of it becomes visible. Wounds, gashes, claw-marks, running in the dozens. The thick fur to stand off in odd angles, caused. By caked blood and deep canyons in his skin. So many… Observing quietly for a moment, Talon concludes that thankfully many are not too deep, the dense fur protecting the large tom… against rogues. Had there been even a few Bloodclan cats with reinforced claws among his attackers, things would be looking worse still. None the less, the sheer amount of wounds is nothing short of shocking. Every movement, ever so slight, must unavoidably be pulling on several of them, causing pain. Yet he shows none of it.

„If you are quite done ogling to answer my question, ´leader´…"

Wrath growls impatiently, tapping his reinforced claws against the ground, his tail lashing in agitation behind him. Talon, made aware of his failure to reply, nods slowly

„Yes, it would seem you do have a war to fight. As for what I want, to see fewer collars added to our hall of remembrance. The more of our clanmates die before the clan is finally reunited, the weaker Bloodclan is. Surely on that you'll agree with me, that the clan should remain strong."

Wrath scoffs, shaking his head

„War will keep happening now. Even you can't be blind enough to not see that. Blood will be shed either way. You want to save lives, reunite the clan as quickly as possible, no matter the cost. If you don't or can't, the cost will only keep growing. And if we get rid of some weak blood in the process, Bloodclan will only emerge stronger for it."

Fury roars like an inferno in Talon's gut as Wrath's words trickle in, his gaze sharpening into a glare

„Was Fang weak, Wrath? Was Echo?"

Wrath's paw strikes the ground with ferocious force. A toothy snarl forms on the muscular leader, slowly, on shaky legs, rising up from his nest. Weakened by injury as he may be, the sight of Wrath, his back and neck fur standing up, seeming to loom even larger than he already is. His voice, gruff, but quiet. Like the silence before a descending thunderbolt, tearing the earth and scorching the ground.

„Choose your words carefully, Talon… they may yet be your last. Or do you believe you could challenge me, because of a few scratches…? "

Fear, sparkling in the back of Talon's mind, memories of seeing Wrath fight in the past. As Talon continues matching the larger leader's glare, the urges for fight, flight and reason each scream in his thoughts. Could he take Wrath if it comes to it? Talon's stronger now, but not enough to catch up to the enormous black furred berserker. He is wounded, badly, but would that hinder him enough? Talon's glare only growing sharper, he knows that backing down is just no option. Scourge's gash, now covered by greater scars, tucked away under his pelt, he can all but feel it sting again. As leader, he does not have the right to submit. Perhaps, if Talon can work around his own rage, the situation can still be defused without backing down…

„And what do YOU believe to gain from that, Wrath? If you're wrong, you die and much of your vision with you. Killing you and healing the wounded, how many of yours do you think would follow me after that? And if you're right, Kestrel just takes over my faction, your wounded die and you remain wide open for the twins. And I promise, no, I swear, my death will not come cheap. So you tell me, Wrath, how shall this go?"

A quiet hiss, from Talon, a rumbling growl from Wrath, all the noise to be heard as the heartbeats go by. Red eyes and green eyes not flinching from each other, as every hair on both cats stands up high. His resolve to not back down does little to shield Talon from the quiet panic, poisoning his every thought. His pads sweat profusely under his paws, anchored in place by extended claws. Talon will fight, he has to, he could never be Scourge's successor if he concedes now. He might die, Wrath seems not as slowed by his injuries as Talon thought he might be. If Wrath can push past it, battle with all he has, Talon might be crowfood. He won't go easy either way. He'll sell his hide for the highest price only, even if it takes his last breath to do it…

Wrath finally moves, a spitting scoff as he shakes his head.

„So, the forest clan lover found his spine at last. Somewhere between your fever dreams of Scourge and letting our enemies live, you found a mousetail's worth of warrior's courage. Good for you…"

A loud growl escapes him, less so of anger this time, as he very slowly sits down on his haunches, legs shaking with pain and effort. Talon's fur very slowly flattens again. Great effort is expended on not letting out a loud breath, pressure slumping off the red eyed tom's shoulders. He was nigh certain for a moment that his life might end here… but now it becomes more apparent just how much the injuries weigh down the rival leader.

„Fever dreams, huh? So news of that has made rounds now… was just a matter of time, I suppose."

„I assure you, nothing could interest me less than your midnight fantasies. Scourge is gone, like anyone who dies, and that's the end of that. But I hope you have something of more worth than that to speak of."

Wrath waves his paw in dismissal, a sharp flinch betraying that that was a painful mistake. With a huff, the sizeable leader puts down his paw again. From this position, Talon can see that even Wrath's belly hadn't been spared, two long claw-marks drawn across it. Talon nods curtly

„Venom needs to organise the wounded by severity to work effectively. She would have you come to the den of your wounded for treatment."

Wrath observes Talon a brief moment before letting out an exasperated sigh

„Does she? That she-cat's always been too presumptuous when it comes to giving orders. You should keep more of a paw on her as her leader. But fine…"

Slowly, so shortly after sitting down, Wrath forces himself back onto his paws, the effort plain to see. One step at a time, the large black cat lumbers forward, keeping his pace reduced enough to keep his own reactions in check. Despite the remnant of anger still smouldering in Talon, a bit of compassion rings among his feeling. Wrath must be in absolute agony and every step only worsens it… the force of will to keep himself from even a mild grimace as he walks on, it borders aweinspiring.

Talon looks over to Arbrarc, whom has watched the entire rollercoaster of a scene without another noise, taking the side of his leader. The other red eyed tom send Talon a brief look as his leader and he slowly pass by. Relief appears to be chief among his sentiments currently, though a certain amount of respect briefly shines through as well, before Arbrarc turns his head straight ahead, focused on somewhat discretely letting his leader lean against him to facilitate his walk.