Morningecho:

As the PineClan leader took his leave, a word of thanks was offered in his gratitude for her input on the day, the feline flicked her tufted ears, watching as the tom padded from the den. A warmth oozed thickly through her body, like honey on a warm day as a newer respect blossomed within her for their honorable leader. He had banded them, sticking the group together and leading them to a newfound home, and here he had taken pawsteps in a direction that ShadowClan should've taken moons ago. Listening to the counsel of his warriors, hearing their words and perspectives, and constructing his own opinion from their views.

It gave a spark of faith in the she-cat, something that had previously only been reserved for StarClan, and those of her mother's blood. Morningecho had almost purred, yet the sound was strangled in her throat as the uniquely patterned face of Hawktalon stuck her head inside of the confined space.

Bewildered by the cats that seemed to have a newfound fascination for the Healer's den, Morningecho watched the molly offer moss to Gentlebreeze, and the fur on her back settled from the urge to prickle. The older she-cat had a similar mentality to her, the distrust and calculation both traits learned from time spent in ShadowClan, but unlike Morningecho, Hawktalon had the luck to have experienced their old home before the fall, and could see exactly when the tides changed to prophecize their downfall. Since the silver-striped cat wasn't here for her, she lifted a paw and began to lick the rough pads of her paws, cleaning between each pink bean of her toes as her tongue rasped over the callous skin. 

As Hawktalon took her leave of the den, Morningecho's eyes rose from her task of cleaning her paws of the staining blood, to watch as Gentlebreeze gracefully worked around her den, piling the moss into it's designated spot, her serenity was mesmerizing. The molly almost wondered if there was a time where she was as utterly calm and carefree as Gentlebreeze expressed herself, unruffled by the turmoil or the intensity of a warrior's life. Perhaps, in another life where ShadowClan didn't crumble due to their own hubris and greed, Morningecho would have been shaped into a different cat. But, in this life, she was exactly who she was groomed to be.

Better.

Lavender-hued eyes snapped to the movement of Nettlesnap rising to his paws, favoring the injured one as he tried to mask the ripples of pain in his musculature with each step, and the air of arrogance that was exuded from his very pores was answered with a mocking glower. The fact that the tom was even capable of walking away with a bruised paw, showed the quality of the cat before her. After all, in his cowardice and hurt pride, he had risked the lives of the cats he slept beside in the warrior's den, betraying the very concept of a code as well as revealing his true colors. After all, a tabby doesn't change his stripes, and Nettlesnap made that abundantly clear. He was a tom that was out to save his own fur, even if it meant leaving his clanmates for dead.

Pathetic.

Licking her lips as she watched the foxhearted rogue leave the den, Morningecho wondered why he hadn't received reprimand, or punishment, for endangering the life of his clanmates, and abandoning them in the heat of a fight to sit on the sidelines and lick a bruise. If the tom wanted to act like an apprentice who sulked because another had made their mentor proud instead of him, perhaps he should live like an apprentice for a moon to remember his honor, and the code. Yet, that decision would fall to Owlstar, and the earlier respect fizzled with the thought that the tom's behavior had been endorsed by the lack of action to correct it. Scrunching her nose, the molly rested her head upon her paws, movement catching her eyes as she watched Gentlebreeze's gaze cast out to the camp beyond the den, microexpressions flickering across her features as she seemed to almost panic.

'I'm gonna go out and look for some herbs. I'll be back later.' Gentlebreeze gave her reasoning for her reaction to the setting sun, and Morningecho's gaze narrowed as the Healer padded from the den, uncertainty bubbling within the she-cat as to the reason that it had been dire to leave to pick herbs this very moment. Perhaps, she had realized she was lacking a vital herb in her stores, and she wanted to retrieve it before the sunlight completely vanished from the skies. Huffing out a breath, Morningecho made a mental note of the behavior, and closed her eyes now that the den was empty, and the peaceful silence enveloped her, relishing in the solitude that remained.