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Iris sat vigilantly next to the pyre, where her fallen clan mates were being cremated after the fierce battle with the rivalling clan. Her heart nearly tore itself in half as the body of a young hatchling, no older than four days, was carried past her. The smoke from the pyre lazily drifted past her, eventually becoming one with the wind. Iris felt tears coming to her eyes, but forced them down and kept watch over the funeral processions. In all her years of fighting, of being a scholar, or of just being alive, she had never witnessed something so terrible. Few had been left unscathed. Instead of the wind's delicate, sweet song, the sounds of pained groans, sobs and mourning filled her ears. Iris angrily gripped the ground beneath her with her talons. What was the purpose of her strength, if she could not even protect her own clan? The numerous battles had been wearing down her spirit, although she could not show that to her clan. No, she had to remain strong, to show them that there was still a purpose in living, that they had to keep fighting. However, it hurt. She was hurting. She longed to be able to cry with the rest of her clan, but she knew that they all looked up to her, and expected her to be their supporting pillar. If only she hadn't been strong. If only she had showed them her fragile side. If only she could've been protected, instead of having to protect. If only, if only... Iris gently set down her sword in front of the pyre and let loose a haunting, mournful cry for what could've been.

The aftermath of the battle had been terrible. A large portion of her clan had been killed, and many had deserted. The few that remained have all either been injured, or severely shaken and in low spirits. What had once been a proud clan had been reduced to only shards of its previous grandeur. Iris knew that it would be months, if not years for it to regain its splendid beauty. She could not help but mourn, and she even allowed herself to shed a tear when nobody had been watching. It was through this battle that she had realized just how precious life was. Previously, she had no qualms with hunting prey for their beautiful pelts or feathers. Now, she loathed the prospect of killing even the smallest mouse. She knew that one more death, one more battle would shatter their clan's spirit, no matter how brave she remained. They could not afford anymore violence, not after what bloodbaths had just befallen them. Besides, there were still some seeds that would grow into fine flowers of peace. A clutch of eggs had just hatched today, and the hatchlings had not yet experienced the cruel harshness of this world. Iris vowed that she would protect them with all her strength, and that she would once again take up a sword against anyone who threatened the wellbeing of her clan. She had to. It was her duty, to do what was necessary, although unpleasant, when nobody else would do it. She would endure.

"All life is precious, young one. Do not foolishly throw away your own."