Chapter 69

Fury bubbles still under Talon's pelt, prickling at his skin as he steps into the twoleg den, a long smashed window having been the point of entry. Moist and rank, the smell of this place would have been severely offputting were the circumstances any more permissible to such sentiment, but with every further step towards the store of herbs visible on the far side of the room, it's smell becomes stronger, until it overpowers the dampness all around. Viper sits next to the crudly plucked plants, sending them one more glance before returning her gaze to Talon with a mixture of uncertainty and discomfort. Edge had been quick to alert Talon to their find, but leaping down into the deep twoleg den was something Viper had to do, lest his inability to predict the depth cause even more harm than has already come to pass in the early hours of this already darkly marked day. The blind cat's nose has proven it's worth all the same, finding this. A small sliver of Talon wishes he could feel the gratitude towards his clanmate this would deserve, but it finds no purchase in the sea of barely contained rage that has flooded his heart.

"That's it. Has to be."

Frost, returned not long ago with the reinforcements Talon ordered, steps up beside the leader, eying the crop, a fair bit of which by now ruined, wet or downright wilted and rotting due to the humid conditions. Talon nods slowly.

"Has to be... any chance that traces or scents remain of who brought it here?"

Viper shakes her head, ears slightly lowered with a sorrowful glance.

"I did not find any. The smells are strong here, easy to mask something weaker like a scent. And if the traitor wasn't here very often, there's likely little to go on."

The red eyed tom expected this answer since the first of this pungent place's smells hit his nose, still it fuels his anger, his claws unsheathing and pulling back on the compared to asphalt relatively soft concrete, leaving little notches in the floor as he pulls back his paw.

"There MUST be something here. Search, tear the enitre place up, chew through the concrete if you must. Rover did not die for nothing. There is something in this place, anything!"

Echoing through the room just below a shout, there is no hiding Talon's agitation in his voice, the fur on the back of his neck standing up in spikes.

"Too many cats in here could be counterproductive to finding any finer clues. Perhaps fewer cats should be rummaging around in here... and if anyhow you can, perhaps you should find some rest."

Talon turns to see Silver sitting up in the broken window, the glinting eyes of several more clanmates peering in. The older tom's voice rings calmly, grounded, still his own gaze betrays that he is not unmoved. Like the onset rain upon a raging fire, his reason might not extinguish the blaze that consumes Talon, but it douses it somewhat. Gnashing his teeth and shaking his head, Talon gives no immediate answer, but at last gives a heavy exhale and begins padding slowly towards the window.

"You have your orders. Find something. Tell me immediately if you do. Wake me if needed. This... must hold priority over most else."

Not turning to see if Frost, Viper and Poppy, the other cats down there with him, give a nod, or any response, but sure enough he hears the patter of their paws wandering around the room a moment later. With a quick leap up onto a crooked shelf, as delapidated as everything else down there, from there he jumps up into the window frame, immediately struck by the chilling cold outside once more. Pausing a brief moment, attempting to think, Talon glances at Silver from the side, the dutiful white cat sitting beside him.

"Keep three or four cats here, search around outside this place. Perhaps there's some kind of trail or something that indicates who was here. But don't scatter too far from each other. There will not be any more bad news today. There will not."

Silver nods, before holding Talon's gaze once more. The dark grey leader gives a small nod in return, before falling silent for a few heartbeats again, remaining motionless where he stands, before he finds some words again.

"How... fares Moon?"

Silver sighs, closing his eyes.

"Somewhere between grieving and seething. I can't tell which more. She was never one to display much emotion openly, but this... some wounds cut deep. We managed to get her to leave, return home, to her den, with Rover's collar. But I don't think she'll find much rest in the near future, wether we find the traitor or not. She needs time. I would recommend trying to keep her busy, but nothing too hard or with the potential for... violent mistakes. I don't think she should go on border patrols for a while. If what's festering in her discharges on some fool getting too close to the border, especially a clanmate from a different faction..."

A sigh escapes Talon, his tail flicking behind him.

"Yes, that might be for the best. I'll tell Kestrel. Keep her gathering and hunting for now."

He looks over to the green eyed tom, fatigue increasingly beginning to wrestle with his still searing fury within.

"You've got things under controle here, right?"

Silver tail bends forth, gently resting on Talon's shoulder for a few heartbeats

"I got it. Go find some rest, Talon. We still need our leader."

Letting his gaze wander across the other cats present, retreated back a few taillengths, speaking in hushed voices. Concern, anger, undisguised upon their faces, rightfully so. The news is out now about there being a traitor, telling them to remain silent would do little good at this point. This knowledge will spread, it's no longer avoidable. Talon's voice is a whisper as he brushes past Silver.

"If we keep losing warriors, how long will that stay true?"

Waiting for no answer, Talon wanders past them all, slowly resuming his way back to the alley, his paws feeling heavy as steel with every step. He hears the sound of Silver giving his orders to them, but the precise words elude his hearing. The only words echoing in his mind are Edge's. Is it a test? Scourge knows more than he told Talon. Why? Scourge always had a certain callousness, but never at the cost of the clan. Either way, he will tell all he knows. This has gone on long enough, cost them too much. This can not be permitted to persist.

Time passes Talon by as he wanders on, anger fueling his stride, the alley soon reached. The questioning stares of cats fail to reach Talon. He will need to make an announcement in the morning anyway, they will know what they need to know. By then, Talon will have something, a name, a traitor. There will be no pardon, no forgiveness, not for this, not now of all times. Slinking down into his den, Talon's course leads directly to his nest. Letting himself fall into what earlier he had hoped would be restful comfort, now barely so. Though fury remains pumping through his veins, with some small amount of thankfulness, the grey tom finds that after training with Ashfur, after the sprint through the territory, after everything, his tired body seems to waste little time in burdening his eye lids with weight. Though he'd felt it, the extend of his exhaustion seems to have escaped him before this moment. Now, lying still at last, it crashes down upon him like an avalanch.

„Is it?"
Scourge doesn't slow in his pace as the two cats wander the Dark Forest, making their way through by now somewhat familiar places, the crooked trees and glowing fungy having become more predictable by now to Talon.
„Be specific.I don't call you here for guessing games."
Talon's tail lashes behind him, yet he attempts to keep his voice calm.
„A test. This whole matter with the traitor. Rover's death now. Has he been found yet anyway?"
„Not yet, too early. But he will be found. Slower than I care for, but we are getting better at orientating ourselves in the Void."
Talon nods, padding after the previous leader, carefully avoiding sticks or bigger leaves to keep their noise down. Still, he waits for an answer to his initial question, frustration rising with each moment he is denied one, yet none comes.
„Well, is it? A test?"
Fury bristling his pelt, narrowed eyes staring at the small black tom padding before him. The words leaving Talon's maw contain undisguised accusation at this point. Scourge turns his head, not breaking his stride, just enough to shoot a look with one of his cold blue eyes back at Talon. His voice, high pitched as it is, remains as calm and flat as ever. Merely a small flick of the tip of his tail indicates his displeasure at the words spoken to him.
„I invite you to reconsider your tone. The leader of Bloodclan would be my equal. YOU remain a long way from that."
Turning back to look ahead, a brief pause ensues, before Scourge resumes, his head ever so slightly tilted in search of the right way to phrase things.
„In a way. Nothing that occured was of my design. But you seek to be leader. This is something you would need to deal with, regardless on wether I were here or not. And Bloodclan will not follow the foolish example of the forest cats. My clan will not grow reliant on the dead to warn them of dangers."
„But you know! You know who it is! By the time the sun rises, we could have the traitor. I would see to their punishment, the faction could be safe again!"
A sligh sigh and a shake of his head are Scourge's immediate answer.
„Two factions, each by now dangerously close in power to your own might unite against you. Leafbare, though slowly subsiding, still goes on. Rogues are ever at the borders. At all time a swarm of rats from the sewers or a dog from the twolegs could be loose on the territory. The forest clans are aware of our presence once more and none can predict what the twolegs might do at any given time. Safe, Talon? Bloodclan's cats are NEVER safe. Which is precisely why you must remain vigilant."
Stopping sharply, Scourge turns about, looking Talon in the eye, forcing him to stop in his tracks.
„And do you pretend that once the clan is reunited, all will be happy, all animosity will just be forgotten? Do you think you will have won once the factions are all one again? That there might not be traitors in the future, cats that were loyal to creeds that do not align with yours? Victory is not something that lasts past the brief moment it is achieved in. Do you presume my guidance through all that as well, yet still try to call yourself leader? If you can not deal with this yourself, you stand no chance at all that may yet come to be. In that sense, yes, it is a test. The same test twoleg-place would force upon any cat presuming to call themself a leader within it's bounds, and will keep forcing upon you for as long as you bear such a title."
A rarely open frustration visible upon Scourge's features, his tail slowly swishing back and forth behind him, unwavering with his cold stare. Taken aback, Talon attempts to mouth words but can find none. This was as much an outburst as it was an explanation. Scourge does not have outburst, he never did. Is this the true weight of leadership as it has been resting on Scourge all this time? Slowly ceasing to mouth words that wouldn't come, Talon just grits his teeth. Sure, what he says is true, but none the less… the image of Moon's grief is too fresh in Talon's mind to try and shut out. He'd never thought to see such raw emotion, such agony on a cat that usually sands so firmly. Yes, there will be much work, much danger in the future, and though it disgusts Talon, he hadn't thought much of Bloodclan's cohesion once they were united again. Still, if he could just have this one matter solved now, could refocus most his attention on getting there, to unification, perhaps…
Opening his maw once more to speak, Talon shivers. Temperature had not been something he'd thought much of in the Dark Forest. It never felt hot nor cold here. Yet he all but can feel the very air chilling around him at the sight of Scourge's glare.
„This conversation is concluded now. We go train."
The small black tom turns around, slowly resuming his walk. Without the chance of words, Talon finds his paws moving in tandem with Scourge's. It bothers, it gnaws at the back of Talon's mind, but Scourge has made a decision. The dead leaves crunch slightly under his steps. He recognizes the path Scourge has chosen. Not to the small clearing of Bloodclan's dead, but straight to the little hollow, where they have trained so many times now, where the roots have tasted his blood, the leaves heard his hisses. Again today. Again, after blood was already shed. Talon's jaw clenches, his teeth pressed together, nigh chipping from the pressure. A Bloodclan cat must be able to be cold, but be so against his enemies, not his clanmates, not friends. It seems unserious. Worse, it seems humiliating, to honour one of their own who has fallen so little, when even his spirit has yet to be brought to safety.
Stepping out of the deep shadows of the close growing trees, into the clearing, anger still bites at Talon. Deep breaths. The earthy, slightly fungal smelling air fills his lungs in an attempt to calm himself.
„Positions"
The sudden word breaking the silence causes Talons ears to perk up, though he has heard this command often enough before, watching Scourge take a few more steps before turning to face him, in the same mouvement dropping into a low fighting stance. Talon shakes his head, a tingle remaining still in his spine from his former leader's earlier stare, but the tumultuous cocophony of his mind still rings louder. He is the leader of faction, he must defend his faction. There must be a way to get what he needs out of someone who knows. But Scourge is his leader, he can not demand… but can't he? Is Scourge his leader? He is dead. He died. All this madness, it is because Bloodclan has no leader. If he is to take that role, if he is to become as Scourge was, how could he cower, especially if he was specifically taught not to?
„Positions, Talon! The loss of one warrior can not put your mind off a fight that's right in front of you!"
Talon blinks, Scourge's tail lashing with impatience, the only readable emotion about the smaller tom, who's icy eyes seem to stare straight through him. Talon had remaind standing with no guard, no stance before the battle ready spirit for a few heartbeats now and only now becomes truly aware of it. Talon shakes his head, sinking into a semi-ready battle position.
„Scourge, I know you speak the truth. But don't I have a duty to fulfill? As leader, I have to deal with this and fast. If you won't just tell me, at least tell me where to look. A lead, a hint is all I ask. My faction, YOUR clan suffers!"
Slowly readying himself more properly, he observes the small tom, the lashing tail ceasing, freezing motionlessly behind Scourge. Moments pass with no mouvement, no matter how slight, how minute on either side.
At last, Scourge appears to ease his stance, raising himself up a little higher again upon his legs, expression as unreadable as ever, an unheard sigh of relief escaping under Talon's breath.
„…a demonstration of leadership then?"
The spirit's voice just slightly above a whisper, Talon nods in reponse, his own posture easing up.
„If I can only…"
Talon's words melt into a yelp as in the brief moment of a single blink Scourge's claws have gone from being sheathed at the ground to tearing a gash over Talon's face, sending him reeling back a few steps. He hisses at the pain, instinctively lowering himself into a guard once more. Overstepped. He was told to cease and didn't. Fair… But as Talon blinks past the droplets of blood already beginning to run down his face, he can not find Scourge in front of him. Pain shoots through him right hind haunch as hooked claws rip a deep wound into it. Talon bounds forward, hoping to put at least a little distance between them, immediately turning to face Scourge upon his paws touching the ground. He buys himself just enough time to behold that Scourge made the same jump less than half a second later himself, his black front paw outstretched and aimed for a blow at Talon's shoulder. He could try to take a quick step back, try to use the attack to launch a counter-attack… but Scourge is quick. The instant the former leader's paws are on solid ground again, Talon hopelessly loses any speed advantage. No, no backpeddling, no simple counters. Forward, ever forward. He can't fight passively, not against someone this much faster than himself. He wants to land a hit, let him. Fury warming his muscles, Talon lashes out with all the leverage his taller build offers him on the same side. As Scourge's claws miss their mark, pulling a minor gash into Talon's front leg, the latter's paw connects squarely to the side of Scourge's head, two claws hooking into the spirit's cheek and pulling a wound all the way to his maw, throwing the smaller cat's head to the side.
Good. A fine tradeoff. If Talon can keep landing solid blows in return for minor ones, maybe he can finally use a strategy that works against the smaller, much more nimble leader. Perhaps… or not. Instantly as Scourge's white paw grounds, he kicks out at the ground his one of his hind legs, adding to the impact of Talon's strike to spin him around, his other hind leg raised high. Approaching as a single flash of black fur, Talon has no chance to dodge or counter as Scourge's hind claws pull through his face, dangerously close to his eye, forcing it shut in reflex. Before it even opens again, Talon hears Scourge's next move. Off to the left, right past his side. He tries to catch Scourge with a wide yet quick sweeping strike in that direction, turning with it to not let the former leader remain out of sight. He catches naught but tuft from the slender black tail, the end of his sweep met by Scourge's jaws clenching down fiercely around his front leg right above his paw. A long hiss escapes Talon at the piercing pain as teeth dig into his flesh. No, no long planning, instinct. Instinct is faster! Fighting through the pain, fuelled by wrath, Talon forcefully pulls his paw in front of him, Scourge still attached. Can't bite, paw in the way, so… With a thundering crash, no true plan but to damage, no, destroy his attacker, Talon throws his head downward, hammering it against Scourge's. The impact wanders straight through, into the bitewound, causing Talon to shout in pain, but with an indescribable noise, closest thing it could be compared to being the wretching of a cat that doesn't yet know if they'll throw up or not, Scourge's grip relents, jaws opening. Before the smaller cat can regain composure, Talon slams his injured paw down for stability, near cursing himself for it as the most exquisitly burning agony flares up in his leg for it, but all the same tearing him other paw upwards. Claws dig into Scourge's upper chest and pull the smaller cat into the air as they tear deep gashes, reaching to and ultimately stopped by the leather of his collar. Flying through the air for a brief moment before landing in a thud on the ground, on his side, defenseless, Scourge now is open for Talon to approach. In a bounding leap, the grey tom shoots towards Scourge, his red eyes ablaze with pain-fuelled rage, his jaws open to close around the smaller one's upper spine. The very moment Scourge's eye meets Talon's however, he realises the mistake. Should have stayed grounded, stayed stable on the floor. Scourge pushes himself off the ground, neither away, nor centrally towards Talon, but slightly to the side. Talon's teeth gnash in the empty air as Scourge, light as he may be, barrely with all his might into Talon's uninjured left front legt, knocking it from under him less than an instant before it would have touched the ground. Agony. Absolute, breath-robbing agony as Talon's heavily damaged leg is left to absorb every bit of the initial impact back with the floor. Time seems to drip by like slowed as the pressure and weight on it keep building, Talon's larger body descending. Tears well up in the corners of his crimson eyes. He knows what happens before it does, there could be no other way. His leg gives, buckles completely under the strain, sending his body unceremoniously crashing into the dead leaves, kicking up dust. His jaws part in a soundless scream as red hot torturous pain shoots through his limb. He can tell Scourge wastes no time in following it up with further strikes, shredding Talon's left side, but he can barely feel the gashes next to his leg, his body curling up.
Talon's mind is abuzz with nought but pain. He couldn't tell how much longer Scourge's assault went on, only that a bloodied mess is all that remains before the small black leader, by now sitting before Talon, slowly licking at his chest wound. Talon's breath only comes in rattlingly. No words come to mind, but he tries to speak. Impossible. None sound from maw, though it does suffice to seemingly draw Scourge's attention. Cold blue eyes looking down upon Talon. Odd. It seems oddly… familiar. It hadn't been Scourge's claws that rendered him so then, but this seems… reminiscant of when they first met. Despite it all, the reminiscence offers somewhat of a warmth, a different warmth from the seemingly searing pain, an almost comforting one. Still, much like Talon himself, it finds itself outclassed.
„You are no leader yet…"
Huffing for breath, the pain so prevalent in his mind, it takes active forcus for Talon to even hear Scourge's high pitched words.
„I give you more than I should already, for one reason and one reason alone. I will not watch Bloodclan, MY clan, my life's work, fall apart. Had I been lost in the Void, you'd have no training here, no fast advice and lessons on how to become a true leader. You'd have to make due, figure it out, and that is how it should be. I will keep training you, but until you ARE the leader, clearly and uncontestably, NEVER challenge me again."
Talon slowly manages a nod. It takes a few more heartbeats and far more effort than it seems like it should, before Talon manages to pull himself to at least lie upright on his belly, no longer panting into the rotting leaves and the earthy ground. Scourge watches the effort with no reaction greater than licking up a slowly descending drop of blood from the wound near his maw. Moments pass of solemn silence before Scourge lookd down at his chest wound, only to let out a quiet hum and rise to his paws.
„You did land good strikes… headstrong as you are, there is progress. Missguided as you remain, you show no fear standing up for your vision of Bloodclan…"
Scourge walks, brushing past Talon. The red eyed tom can only turn his ears to follow his former leader, anything else would only add to the agony.
„Have Venom patch you up… you have cats to lead. Training is over for tonight."

His call is weak, his vision too dim to register the already gloomy inside of the healer's den. Has it been a heartbeat or half the night, that he stands here trying to call for her? Probably the former, he'd have bled dry by now otherwise. Though it is hard to tell. Another limping step deeper into the healer den, another weak call. Is he facing in the right direction towards Venom's nest? His eyes refuse to sufficiently adjust to the dark. Rustling. At first slow, then suddenly louder, faster. Steps quickly padding his way.
„I smell blood! Talon, what's wrong?"
Venom's words carry urgency, a hint of worry disguised underneath it. Her eyes finally come into view, shining as they reflect what little light enters the den. Serious eyes, stopping not far in front of Talon. Eyes rapidly filling with first surprised worry, then almost horror as the pupils visually widen and adapt to see more in the darkness.
„Talon! What happened? You are… This way, NOW!"
Venom moves quickly, decisively. Admirable. As her eyes fade from his view, he feels her pushing up against his side, trying to slowly guide him towards an empty nest. Or so he presumes. A slight hiss escapes Talon as Venom's pelt pushes into the myriad of gashes in his left side, but one limp at a time, he is herded in the right direction. Other eyes light up deeper in the den. Who… ah, yes, must be Rain. Of course. Though they proceed, Talon refuses to put weight on his right front leg, but that only serves to tire out his other front leg. And it's strength is fading, fading fast. Shouldn't so quickly. Probably bloodloss. Is he still bleeding this badly? That cant be good. Though he can hardly see at all in the den, it seems like the world around Talon twists and spins. A small chuckle arises from him.
„Nothing… Scourge… Scourge and I just had a…"
Every little bound of his one good front leg seems to get him less far than the last, his body falling lower before catching itself.
„a disagreement."
Cold. Not the cold in which all is let go, just the ordinary icky cold of the slightly damp, hard floor of the healer den. His leg must have given out at last. He doesn't even remember falling, let alone the impact. Becoming aware of it, he does notice the sudden lack of warmth that Venom's pelt offered, despite the discomfort. Worried eyes above him. Good hits… Not quite there yet, but good hits. This clan gave him a life. Scourge gave him a life. And he's beginning to get in… good hits.