The scent of fire and charred land still hung heavy in the air. There was something almost mocking about it, in that even when one wasn't around their own clan-mates who were still in the throws of horror and mourninv, even when the change of scenery had somehow dulled from a jarring change to a backdrop, the scent remained to remind of what had passed.  Even still, Antlerhearth was one whose every footstep seemed to carry with it a staunch resolve, as if unshaken and unstirred. Whether that was true or not was hard to tell, but the she cat did well to keep up the image.