Group Training [All ShadowClan cats]

Following the pack and even lagging behind somewhat as to watch the rear of the remnants of Shadowclan was Ashstrike. The muscular tom's paw prints padded in a dusting of ash, kicking up the fine particles in which he was named after. His home was reduced to dust, and recently the Shadowclan warrior felt that statement was perhaps more true and bitterly poetic than ever. Fire wasn't the only thing that had completely crippled Shadowclan. Friends and comrades, clanmates that had been with him since the very beginning had spelled their clan's own doom in a dizzying amount of speed. Tongues were sharp, and the blatant arrogance and viciousness that was displayed put a bitter, simmering feeling in Ashstrike's gut. Everything that could have gone wrong did. How could this have happened? Why did Starclan LET this happen?

Ashstrike was silent during the events of the schism. Part of it was out of analysis, part of it was out of numbing shock. When Smallclaw formed the rag tag group of dissenters, Ashstrike was left with a choice... Stay behind with traitors in the land where his mentor and ancestors were buried, the home he had called all his life, or go off into the unknown with the small band who still called themselves Shadowclan. It was a torturous choice, but an obvious one none the less. Without much explanation or hesitation, Ashstrike approached Smallclaw at the entrance of the old camp, simply stating, "I'm going with you."

They were the remnants of what was left behind. It wasn't much either. The entire group was comprised mostly of toms, 1 older she cat, and small group of apprentices. They were exposed, and vulnerable in territory that was quickly becoming unfriendly to their presence... Territory that once was the centerpiece of their life. They had to keep moving, only stopping to hunt or train the young ones for the harrowing journey ahead.

Ashstrike didn't say anything, but with his face set in a grim half scowl, it was obvious he was aware of their chances.

But these thoughts were not conductive to his duty. As a veteran warrior who was once one of the stronger fighters in the territories, Ashstrike made sure to watch the group's back until told otherwise, icy-blue eyes scanning the burnt landscape for strangers wearing familiar faces. His form was relaxed, but the tension evident in jaw and the overall alertness of his form illustrated the fact that the tom was keeping a lookout for trouble. With most of the other warriors leading the party or surrounding the apprentices and their current leader,  Ashstrike felt like his position was ideal.

Momentarily, the smoky-gray tom turned to the commotion his clan mate Tawnystripe made as she raged ahead of the group to the now burnt sycamore. Her anger was evident, and one that the gray tom could sympathize with. He just had a different method of expressing it. More than anything, they couldn't let themselves appear bothered by what had happened, at least not openly and especially not now. They had to appear strong for those that traveled with them. They were being looked up to, whether they wanted to be or not. For apprentices, following their clanmates right now was a choice Ashstrike could barely fathom. That took inner resolve that needed to reaffirmed. If composure was lost, things would go downhill very fast.

He didn't blame Tawnystripe though. She always had a fire in her heart that Ashstrike felt a kinship with and could even applaud. He knew her for a long time and was even present the day the border skirmish occurred with Thunderclan. He was there the day that her mother died too, and both of them earned their warrior names at roughly the same time. She became a great warrior, and a respected fighter. Ashstrike was glad that they had that fire with them, but for now? Now was the time to be level-headed about things, even if that composure was but an illussion. There would be a time and place for that fire later.

Eventually, the distance gap was closed as the small group settled in the barren clearing. Ashstrike settled down with them, fixing Tawnystipe a calm look before he spoke, voice clear and gentle.  "Take a breathe first Tawnystrike. We need those claws of yours honed for Skyclanners and other troubles. No sense dulling them on burnt vegetation and your own clanmates." It was the first thing Ashstrike had said since he first joined the group. Despite that, his tone was in no way condescending. If anything, there was a slightly strained smirk on his face, and a level of respect directed at the she cat suggesting sympathy and understanding.

He didn't say anything else though. Hopefully that small assurance would keep everyone relaxed enough for Smallclaw to give his orders.