// @Captain @Estelle bird boy is back feel free to kick his ass!

As hard as it had been to drag his sorry ass out of the sea and onto the familiar sands of Lionsbeach, it paled in comparison to the looming territory of his former home that now rose up before him. Kestrelwing regards it with narrowed yellow eyes, claws out instinctively knowing the type of "reunion" that likely awaits him deeper in the marshy territory.

...But times were different, and so was he. A snort leaves his nose as he stands taller, rolling back his shoulders. Though droplets from the sea still cling to his fur, the dark gray tabby tom takes a careful step inside the territory, then another, and another. There is an ache somewhere in his head that rattles around but he ignores it with a lash of his tail.

Hopefully a patrol would be by soon, and then the real test could begin.

Gingerfrost sigh at these half-hearted excuses and repetitions; it was tiring, in a way. Though perhaps he had to give some credit to Specklemist for caring enough to go look for Troutstone... If she'd gone about it differently. But fine, he'd let this one pass by.
"Get back and rest up."
The tabby grumbled, taking a breath before continuing.
"I'm sending one of you on the next batch of patrols. And next time you look for someone don't stay away for over a moon."


[ Done, they'll be added back shortly! As for Webkit, please resubmit them ]

Things that came crawling out of the ocean were often nasty, tough-skinned little things; they were hard to crack open, and smelled worse than a warrior after training if you weren't used to the smell. An unusual thing to crawl out of the ocean was a cat, or a former leader. It's not quite something one would expect to see when taking a small trip to the beach, to do some hunting, or maybe to get your thoughts together. On the contrary, it might scatter your thoughts instead and chase away any remaining prey. The dead didn't usually rise from their watery grave.

Yet, here he stood. About to descend upon the beach, yet up from above, watched the ginger tabby as an unfamiliar feline dragged itself from the water. Although upon closer inspection, the feline wasn't that unfamiliar after all -- unfamiliar to him, yes, but he knew this cat's name. He'd spent a long time trying to discover what happened between this cat and the clan, when he seemed like a formidable (although anger-ridden) warrior before. Finally stepping onto the sandy beach, he approached the feline with more with neutrality than aggression.

"You've built yourself quite the reputation, Kestrelwing."
The name sounded strange on his tongue. But it was there, existing. Perhaps it was strange how unfazed the tabby appeared, but Gingerfrost had stopped questioning certain unfair elements of life - and for all he knew, the other might never have been dead, and simply taken a swim to return.
"What brings you back here? Guilt? Duty? Heard a lot went down before you suddenly left, like Sootflare. What was the reason behind that?"

// @Estelle

Yellow eyes flash in a brief moment of fear before it rolls back in like the tide behind him. Gingerfrost. Kestrelwing knew not much of the deputy before him, but it seemed as though his own reputation preceded him. A grunt escapes him yet the former RiverClanner stands tall, unwilling to falter in the face of trial. "I guess the stars had something to do with it, considering I've been dead the last twelve moons." So RiverClan had simply figured he had gone missing then? It was better than the alternative he figures.

Yellow eyes remain narrowed but there is no fight in them, no hostility or anger. Just... exhaustion, and maybe a slice of determination. "RiverClan is home, it always has been. I was blinded... by a lot before. I'm not anymore." Guilt, grief, a senseless need of justice that would have likely gotten him killed had the cliffs not done it first. "...But I would like to come back. I'm sure plenty of cats there would love the chance to sink their claws into my fur again," he chuckles half-heartedly, knowing well that whoever was back at camp and saw him first would have their claws in his face faster than a WindClanner chasing a hare.