“Ah, it would seem that I was given a mentor that was a complete opposite compared to yours.” Flintheart said with a low chuckle stirring from him, though it lacked amusement, “I would tell you the tale of my training moons with my own teacher, who was known as Tornblaze, but this does not seem like the appropriate setting for storytime.” The Burmilla’s eyes flickered up to the full moon that shined above them, still unaffected after this battle had begun, as Firefall spoke of the truce. “It is quite sad that despite this bloodshed and violence, our ancestors will still look on without any interference whatsoever,” He muttered, quiet as if he were speaking to himself and lost in his own mind, “I sometimes question why I hold any faith in them after this has happened, but I suppose we must keep our hope and wait to see what happens.” The area around them, once used as a peaceful ground for pleasant conversation and good laughs, was now scattered with blood and fur of cats - both from the clans and the Dusk Syndicate. It would seem like a sick joke if you told anyone that this was an innocent place to seek friends and information from. Flintheart drew away from these troubling thoughts, however, when the other male mentioned his wounds. He had nearly forgotten about them, the stinging pain was at the bottom when it came to his list of priorities. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, they just need some cleaning and I’ll be good to go.” The older tomcat insisted, “Other cats will need the healer’s attention back at camp after this night.” It came off as a stubborn side to Flintheart, refusing treatment for his own well-being - but why? Perhaps it was multiple reasons from being selfless towards his clanmates and caring about them more than himself or maybe it was because nobody ever really cared about his health, so he could get away with these injuries without any questioning. He was unsure, but there was enough time wasted at the moment due to his pensive thinking. Flintheart noticed Firefall’s gaze flicker off to somewhere else, which made the warrior turn his head to spot his own apprentice, Ebonypaw. “For the love of stars, Ebonypaw, get over here before a Dusk Syndicate cat squashes you.” He hissed to the black-furred male, showing that fierce protective manner that he held to his student, “You’ll be lucky enough to escape this battle without any deep scars to take home.” The tall Burmilla went back to his current conversation with the Thunderclan warrior for the moment once again. “See? You do have talents. There’s no harm in being skilled at hunting.” Flintheart said with a smile before he grew serious shortly afterwards, his claws sinking into the loose dirt underneath him. His ears perked up when the orange-furred tomcat mentioned heading back to camp. “Ah, I see. That’s understandable.” He said with a gentle nod of his head, “Let me and my apprentice escort you back for safety. I believe that he has seen enough violence tonight.” As his gaze rested on Ebonypaw before drifting back to Firefall with a softened greenish blue-hued gaze, the warrior grew silent before he began to walk, finding a safer way home. “Come on.” He mumbled to the two males behind him. After a few steps through the grass, Flintheart grew lightheaded for a couple seconds and stumbled on his paws, uttering a hiss of pain, exhaustion taking its toll on his body now. He refused to stop though or show any sort of weakness, especially now, bringing himself up against as he forced himself onwards as he went through the ache.