A cloudy, nigh starless night reigns the sky. Icy winds howl through twoleg-place, sending shivers through much of the patrol regularly as their tired paws push them onward. Ever since they emerged back out from the sewer, the only lights have been the twoleg lights ad a half veiled moon, as they make their way back to the alley. The journey back has been marked by silence. The scouts resumed their job in the sewers as before without needing another order, without needing another word. Sparrow's directions were rarely more than a word or two as he charted the way back. Silence, persueing the patrol ever since Talon rejoined them by the sewer access, alone.

The red eyed leader, back on familiar territory, lets out a deep breath through his nose, leading the warriors back home, padding alone in the front. Frost had walked beside him for a few pawsteps after they reemerged, but soon fell back. No words were needed for the white tom to understand that huddling too close would find no appreciation right now. Talon's mind keeps racing, his thoughts unable to quiet down for even a single heartbeat. Maybe there could have still been a way? The window was closed, solid. Could there have been another path? They wouldn't know if there was, and the twolegs seemed not keen on allowing escape. A constant debate of two sides, both speaking in his own voice, arguing, argumenting relentlessly, working up a splitting headache. A feeling as though Talon's skull was being pulled apart by two sides, each tugging and pulling in it's own direction without relenting. They got the food. They achieved what they set out to do. The faction will survive leafbare. Many lives were helped, saved. Scourge would have known that, he would have known the greater good for the clan was served and not batted an eye. But Talon is not Scourge. For once, Talon feels what he presumes must be Frost's regularly reoccurring frustration. This would be so much easier if Talon could simply be like Scourge. But it's not that simple.

A faint shadow of relief remains in the back of Talon's mind that they succeeded, and that Grail escaped in the nick of time, but it fails to make a dent in the abyss of thought and blame and inner turmoil currently raging within Talon's head. The fury of it almost making him miss the moment when he turns in to his alley at last again. Ferret's call, the young warrior perched on one of the platforms of the stairs, the night guard of this day, pulls at least part of Talon's perception back to the here and now. Much of the faction that stayed, despite the late hour, seems to be gathered in the alley, immediately looking up from discussions and the odd sparring match, over to the returning patrol. Even in the somber gloom of the alley at night, it'd be impossible to miss their eyes collectively lighting up, first at the return, more so still at the sight of the food carried by the returning warriors. Cheers sound, the loudest stemming from Ferret as she descends from her post, as well as Bee, whom immediately makes a dash for the patrol as Hornet's pelt comes into view. Silver sits by the dumpster near the wall, even his eyes showing relief at the scene. Though his are also the first to somber, observing the patrol's return, the lack of enthusiasm in them one would have expected at such triumph. As Kestrel emerges from the twoleg den with a stretch, most other cats in the alley are already in one large swarm, the returning patrol surrounded by the other warriors. Slowly the enthused shouts die down, bit by bit, as their joy is only in part reciprocated. An uneasy silence begins to fall as Talon approaches his wall, dropping the sausages he took to the ground before leaping up the dumpster, past Silver, and from there up to his perch. The faction's eyes rise up to him, though a few are looking through the patrol, the looming suspicions on what's going on growing. Talon looks down upon the cats of his faction, cats that trust his judgement with their lives. Underneath the reinforcing claws, his real ones press against the bricks. This is the first time his orders directly cost them warriors. Cats the others know, warriors they counted on having return to them. The headache reaches intensity to the point it leaves a light ringing in Talon's ears. He did what he had to, right? He can't show weakness now, Scourge would never have. Even in loss, especially in loss, they need to be able to count on him, what else is a leader for? He must be strong. If he cracks now and they begin to doubt his ability to lead them when the going gets hard, then a tragedy may still turn into a full blown disaster for the faction. He draws in a deep breath, the ice cold air burning in his lungs. Strong, immovable… nothing less will do, not with these news.

„We have returned from our mission. We did as we set out to do, our faction will not hunger this leafbare anymore!"

His voice starts out a little quieter than he would have liked, working it's way louder, clearer as he goes along. The eyes of every cat in the alley are on him, all ears turned to hear his words. No weakness, strong, factual…

„Our victory, as is twoleg-place's nature, came at a price. Wax and Owl enabled us to bring our much needed food back home. Bravery, loyalty, for which they paid a high price."

Murmurs and shocked expressions go through the cats that remained in the territory, most of the patrol silent. Some of their eyes are mournful, more attempt themselves at being stone faced. The slightest sliver of relief enters Talon, seeing that he is not alone in trying, very actively, not to show what he feels on the matter. Still, the sorrow visibly runs deep among the cats. Ferret shoots her father, the sizeable chunk of meat still tightly locked between Gash's jaws, a look of surprise and sorrow, before bumping her head against his shoulder in sad sympathy. A spark of gratefulness shows in the warrior's otherwise stubbornly neutral gaze. Bee brushes her pelt against Hornet's, cuddling against her larger mate, who's response is to wrap her tail around her. Clover spits to the side, her displeasure showing in agitation, looking away for most of Talon's speech.

Talon takes a few breaths, before resuming his speech, his teeth clenched against each other fiercely before speaking forces him to part his jaws anew.

„The faction survives ad remains strong thanks to their sacrifice. But also, through the effort of all others that contributed to this raid."

Slowly Talon's eyes turn towards Sparrow. He still cares little for the tom's usual attitude, but now more than ever he must show the faction that there will be continuity under him, no matter what. That, and a promise remains a promise…

„Sparrow! Step forth."

The brown tom looks up in mild surprise, handing off his loot to his sibling Rat, who'd sat down beside him. After briefly shaking out his mane-like fluff, he steps forth. Many a curious look descend upon the tom.

„Sparrow, I said that successfully guiding us to and from our objective would be a great and valuable service to our faction and to Bloodclan. A service the clan would not forget. And with Owl's sacrifice, a position as veteran warrior is now mine to hand out. Would you accept to take on that position?"

The surprise in Sparrow's eyes is joined by the same shine they held in the sewers, if anything his surprise even greater now. After a few heartbeats, Sparrow nods his head.

„I would!"

A brief wave of noise arises as the assembled alley breaks into talk, most surprised. Some seem a little dismayed, deeming it too early to replace Owl already, but more are the cats that seem to hold approval, especially among those who went on the patrol. Silence returns as Talon raises his tail to quiet the faction.

„Then so it shall be. From today on, you count among the veteran warriors of Bloodclan. The clan rewards loyal and exceptional service. Hold your head high and let the clan recognise your new position. Sparrow!"

The alley erupts into shouting Sparrow's name, no-one failing to participate from what Talon can see from atop his wall. Rat especially calls out loudly, the meat he carried placed at his paws as he shouts his littermate's name with enthused pride, the ragged looking tom's empathy for his kin on full display. Sparrow needs no instruction to keep his head high and his tail higher still, basking in the sound of his name, shouted aloud by the entire alley. The new veteran warrior turns and looks through the ranks of his surrounding clanmates, before at last the shouting dies down of it's own again. His gaze returns upwards to Talon after mostly silence returns. As good as it is to see a moment of joy for them, Talon knows that it won't overshadow their losses, not entirely. Still, they will survive. Briefly, Talon clears his voice, eager to get off of the wall, preferably to drop off the face of the earth for a while, but his den would need to suffice for now.

„As my first order to our new veteran warrior, I put the responsibility that the entirety of our haul is brought to and safely stowed at our food pile. After that, all but tonight's guards should rest. It has been a long day… Dismissed!"

Sparrow nods and steps back towards the rest of the faction. Some pad off, but most remain, either to talk, wait for or help the returned patrol. With attention turned away from himself, Talon let's out a deep sigh before dropping down onto the dumpster, fatigue barely concealed upon his face and painfully visible in his eyes. Still his stomach lies heavy, still his thoughts churn mercilessly. Though uncertainty if he will find any tonight is considerable in the dark furred leader, his craving for sleep and rest, a chance to put this day behind him drives his paws onward. Exasperation immediately spikes in the red eyed tom as Kestrel leaps up to the dumpster, impeding his progress towards rest.

„I'm sorry to hear about the lost. Still, you did brilliantly, this food will last us a long time indeed. None of us will hunger much anymore this leafbare"

Talon looks off to the side, an brief, aggravated hiss escaping his tired self.

„If I'd done ´brilliantly´, we'd have two more warriors here now. I did…"

Pondering his own words for a heartbeat, before shaking his head with another sigh

„did only what needed to be done. I never thought I could resent Scourge being right about things this much"

Kestrel tilts his head at this, understanding of Talon's exhaustion, but clearly curious by his comment

„Something about the things he discusses with you, I presume?"

Talon nods slowly, not returning his gaze to Kestrel, nor elaborating on the matter. He wants quiet now. His mind will keep him busy already, anything adding to it now is a thing too much. Kestrel remains a brief moment longer, before it becomes clear that nothing further will be added. With a quiet hum, Kestrel steps aside.

„Well, I presume after a day on your paws, conversation might not be the highest of desires right now. The night guard is already organised. Ferret now, Rover taking over after. He and Moon arrived back in the alley a little while ago."

One of Talon's ears turns towards Kestrel. Another thing that needs his attention, the search for the traitor, still going on, still with no true clues, tapping in the dark.

„Good…"

With one more slow nod, Talon pads past his second-in-command, dropping down onto the pavement below. Dragging himself over and into his den, the last of their catch being brought into the abandoned twoleg den, Talon lets himself fall into his bedding at the first opportunity. With a quiet grumble, he flumps down, staring emptily ahead. He'd managed to keep his faction going for a good while now, but now his orders lost them warriors. Worse still, they couldn't even know if they were dead by now or in pain, or anything. Left to the mercy of twolegs. The thought sickens Talon. There are kind ones, but there are at least just as many dangerous ones, and all of them are possessive beasts. It's not like Wax and Owl were left at just a normal twoleg den, to be potentially kept as kitty-pets. That they could escape. But this was different. These were not, as the kitty-pets call them, ´housefolk´, these ones did not seem the type. The uncertainty rests nearly as heavy on Talon as the fact that he abandoned them. There was no alternative, nothing to be done, yet it feels like nothing less than that, abandonment… betrayal. Betrayal of cats that trusted him, that followed his orders, only to end up in that situation.

Eyes darting and breathing somewhat harder as his mind seems bend on wrecking itself, Talon does not register as another cat enters the den at first.

„Talon?"

The voice violently startles Talon, his pelt spiking on end, wide eyes still holding the entirety of his internal turmoil plainly visible in them darting to find the source of the voice. A heartbeat later, they settle on the shape obscuring much of the already faint light that still enters through the den's entrance at this time. Too dark to immediately recognise by sight, Talon's pelt slowly lays low again as he identifies the cat by scent. His heart still beating fast with stress, the dark grey tom sits up.

„Grail… is there something to report?"

His attempt at keeping his voice calm enough to hide the already obvious turmoil inside fails miserably, between the mild tremor in his words and his too loud volume, though he can't really get himself to care much currently.

„No… I just wanted to say that we're all grateful for you. I am grateful. The faction is going to be fed for the remaining cold times now. Some of the others want to mourn Owl and Wax tomorrow properly. If you permit"

The russet warrior steps a few pawsteps deeper into the den before sitting down. Her silhouette now a little sharper in Talon's sight as his eyes adjust, he sees her pull her tail around herself. Her left ear is drooped, the right one only slightly so, from time to time slightly flicking. Talon lowers his gaze to his paws, the slightly sun yellowed reinforcing claws almost the only thing giving away their position in the dark den. After a few heartbeats Talon shakes his head and raises the first of his front paws up to begin removing the large dogteeth.

„Of course they may mourn. I thank you for informing me, though I don't think any cat needed my permission for this."

Slowly he begins carefully wrangling the dogteeth loose off his own claws, letting them drop onto next to his nest.

„I think it's more that they want to know they have your blessing to do so than really permission. You led us today. You brought this food home for us. That matters, to us all."

Talon briefly raises his gaze to Grail, the faint reflective shimmer of her golden eyes on him. To all… except two. Two whom aren't here now. And Grail of all cats to tell him, Lantern's words still echoing in the back of Talon's mind, all the louder again now as she sits before him. She has proven herself as capable as all other warriors on the patrol. Still, Talon had reservations initially. Would he still hold reservations the next time? As he pulls the reinforcing claws off his second front paw, he wonders. His mind is too abuzz to feel much embarrassment, even as he has to admit to himself that he does care for the she-cat. But does he do so sufficiently and for the right reasons? And if so, is it wise to care for her like this now, or at least to do so visibly? Agitation rises as the last claw falls onto the small pile. If he pushes her away because of the risk it might put her in, it's only proof that he does not trust her as a warrior, self-sufficient and able to defend herself, which is exactly what Lantern spoke of. But none the less, is it fair? After two clanmates already fell because of his orders, and not even in battle to reunify the clan, just to secure their mere subsistence? The headache throbs fiercely, causing Talon to raise one paw up against his skull an exhale in a huff.

„Are you alright, Talon? Should I fetch Rain?"

Talon's eyes shoot back towards Grail as she advances a few steps closer, worry undisguised in her voice.

„NO! No, I don't need… I'll be fine. It's just been a very long day. It'll be alright."

Gail slightly flinches back at Talon's initial shout. Guilt for his unkept reaction arising in him, his remaining words carry an apologetic, if deeply exhausted tone.

„It'll be better by tomorrow. Just… your care is appreciated, Grail. You did well today. You should get some rest, we all should."

Grail observes Talon a few heartbeats longer, before she bows her head, retreating from the den. Talon observes her silhouette disappear from view before shaking his head, an angry snarl forming on his face. Well done, brilliantly done, couldn't have messed that up better if he planned it. With a strong swipe, he sends the pile of dogteeth, as well as a little bit of bedding flying across the den to scatter across the floor. Collecting them again will be a job for tomorrow-Talon. Letting himself fall back into his nest, the red eyed tom stares off into the dark of his den, tail wrapped around himself, head resting on it's fuzz. Sooner or later cats were going to die. Cats have already died in Wrath's faction. Now in his. And things have only just truly begun, if they even that. As leader, he will need to learn to deal with it somehow. As a tom he'll have to figure out what he truly intends for Grail and himself. And then there's still Ashfur, the traitor, the entire reunification of Bloodclan…

Sighing to himself, Talon closes his eyes. So much to still worry about, so much to still get done. But right now he won't solve any of them. Time to see whom will win the sordid contest, his hurting head full of thoughts he'd prefer to choke out of himself, or his lamenting, tired body. Hopefully the latter. He could use the sleep. Maybe there will be just a bit more calm to his thoughts when he wakes, if sleep does come. Hopefully.