Heartache To Heartache We Stand [Starling's Group]

    Roughly a quarter moon since the gathering had been spent at the pebble pool. Dens had been dug, borders had been expanded. Young cats played and old cats patrolled. Despite all the war and death that surrounded them, life was moving forward. The souls of the living were moving on. But could the souls of the passed? Recovery may have begun, but the bodies of the dead still littered the forests. Warriors, kits, elders. Uninvolved rogues and loners. Demons and saints alike lay paw in paw, picked apart above the earth. There were some things that nature alone, be it feline or that of the world around them, could not heal. There were things that, adhering to a code of honor and a sense of loyalty to their lost, warriors had to do for themselves. For their comrades. To let both themselves and their fallen finally move on.

    They'd come at dawn's first light. They, being two pawfuls of the warriors who had retaken a home in the Sunset Plains. The place they'd come to, being what had once been Dawnclan's camp.

    It had been left in ruins. Complete and utter destruction. Those who remembered the camp had been aghast. Those who hadn't, well.. It was a horrific sight no matter who it was beheld by. What dens hadn't been bolted to the earth were torn asunder. The warrior's den, once so lovingly woven into the bramble wall surrounding half the camp, was little more than a pile of broken twigs. Tree branches littered the clearing, and grass had grown high in the center. It was in a completely unlivable state. But it could be rebuilt. Dens could be rewoven, grass could be pulled or trampled. Branches could be moved. Not today, however. Today.. was a much more solemn occasion.

    For the remains of dens and past lives were not all that littered the clearing. Bodies, too, lay strewn about like crowfood. Rotting in the morning sun, most had been left to the elements after the fall of the clans. Some were old, from the earliest battles. Some had to have been less than a week lying there. Cats from all sides. Predominantly Dawnclan, but Breezeclan, Birchclan, rogues and loners all littered the camp. It was.... a sight. Not a pleasant one, but certainly a sobering one. There were ones who had tried to take shelter here before them it seemed. Ones who had tried and failed. Camps were immediate places that tired, frightened cats would think to go for safety, but it seemed that that very mindset had been what turned them into death traps.

    The time for mourning would come soon. But not yet. As much as it lay heavy on her heart, the cat who lead them gave her orders. Starlingfur, their leader, told half of her patrol to gather all the bodies in the hollow. To lay them in line, just outside the camp's entrance. But These were the clanborns. Or at least, the cats who had lived among the clans. Those who would feel the strongest connection to these cats. For some of them, their clanmates. Their kin. Decomposition was too far set in for the traditional last sharing of tongues- the smell of their former home said that much on its own. But they could give honor to their clanmates, their enemies, and their innocent.

    Their other half she ordered to dig graves. Those who had less attachment, be they former rogues or the stronger of the clan cats who had volunteered. There would be a mass burial. A location south of camp had been scouted days prior- before they'd known how many bodies would need resting places. Their estimate had been lower than the reality. But even so, the massive tree at the heart of the forest would make a fine resting place for the fallen. It towered into the sky, higher than even the highest of the cedars. It seemed nearly a tree-length itself in width, although surely that couldn't be possible. Moss climbed the bark and roots tangled through the earth, thicker than any cat present. It was a resting place that their ancestors could be proud of.

    Arriving early had been a necessity. They worked all through the morning, and then the day. Only the eldest stopped for occasional breaks. There were many graves to dig, many bodies to bury. Many memories to bury along with them. But they had to do this, no matter how it hurt. With bloodied paws and battered hearts, they broke the earth and buried it all. The pain, the suffering, and the bodies and souls of those who had fought and died for their survival. For their future. The bodies and souls of cats that deserved to finally be put to rest. Not a warrior stopped their work until the sky had turned red, its setting sun lighting the camp ablaze. Like a cleansing fire. It was still in ruins. Blood still spattered the earth, and the scent would take time to fade. But in a sense, it was clean.

    They left the camp, then. Some warriors later than others, but all ended up at the mass grave before long. The earth beneath the massive tree smelled of moss, stone, and blood. Most old, but some new. For there was always sacrifice in the name of honor. And such a large grave hadn't been dug in.... No, it was doubtful that any here had seen such a thing. It was the kind of sight that reminded those just how much they had lost. And what had the war been worth in the end?

Nothing.

    And yet here they found themselves, even after all that had passed. Facing one hardship and the next, suffering back to back. But no more would those days be. This was the dawn of a new age- and this sacrifice couldn't be meaningless. Their friends, apprentices, mentors, mates, kits- they had died for something.

A chance.

A chance at a better life.

A chance for those in the future to create something better than what had been in the past.

A chance at hope.

    Perhaps they could not honor them traditionally. There would be no last sharing of tongues. No reminiscing of battles spent at their side. No smattering of rosemary and mint to prepare for burial. Many things had been lost, but not all. There would be a speech on their honor. There would be a moonlight vigil, and they would get a sendoff to Starclan. Untraditional as it may be. Their souls could finally be at peace. No- both of theirs. The living and the dead. For deep down, some knew. Some felt it. This was as much a sendoff to their dead as it was to their clans. The way things had once been, and the lives they had lead. From this point on, there could be no gong back. It was both damning and freeing.

This was their life now.

Entire bloodlines had been cut down. Five had become two. But they had been given a second chance. A chance to continue to live their lives anew- to live for those who hadn't made it to see this day.

It would be an insult to Starclan to squander it.