He felt as though he were going insane, the way he ran through the forest with wild and unseeing eyes similar to that of a deer being hunted by the wolf in the night. Utterly alone and entirely helpless, the only thing to show for a desperate attempt of escape would be death- either by the slow and steadily rising exhaustion that pulled with incomprehensible weight against every creaking limb, or by the ravenous and violent clutch of ivory fangs against a regrettably fragile neck wholly exposed. Perhaps a predator in itself was desperate all the same, in its own twisted and horrifying way, for if it did not eat- if it did not hunt- it too would surely die. He had been the predator once before, to which he hoped deep down never to be again, however he had since found that being the prey- the prisoner- to none other than yourself was no better. There was no solace either way, and he would pay the price that has been long since overdue.
He was crying now, though he could barely notice between the sound of splintering underbrush echoing its pain through the otherwise silent air. No amount of thick foliage could deter his thrumming paws, beating a frenzied song into the earth that carried him. The brisk wind that battered his fur and raked its claws against his flesh stung his eyes- eyes which for once- were stretched so far open they had grown red from the tension. The speed at which he ran was unlike any other, at least not from these woods- one might have mistaken him for a reckless WindClanner had it not been for his foreign looking appearance and the fact SkyClan had not chased him from their camp- not that they needed to now, for he was doing it himself. Running from himself. In the back of his ravaged mind, he knew it would always amount to nothing more than a weary, battered body and a chest rattling from it's inability to inflate with the proper amount of oxygen, but he couldn't stop himself from succumbing to the instinct all the same. It was the only constant he had left, the only familiar thing he knew how to do. This land was not his home, those inhabiting it not his friends- it was too soon. He wasn't ready. He would never be ready so long as his heart continued to pump his tainted blood throughout his veins, for his heart should only ever beat for everything he had lost, crying out for it- for them- endlessly with every muffled contraction. Nothing and nobody could replace it. He would never again experience the feelings of which they evoked.
Too lost in thought to account for his surroundings and at a trajectory too great to slow, Bat didn't realize he was rapidly coming up on a stray tree branch, likely fallen from the canopy above given its size. With a short gasp, his collision was direct, limbs entangling with it and causing his entire body to catapult across the open space beyond, the force of it so immense he even bounced against the hardened ground before rolling to a stop a considerable length from the initial impact. For a moment he lay still, his breathing labored and his body trembling in a mixture of shock, emotion, and adrenaline. Every inch of him ached and burned, his muscles burning him from the inside out like an enraged fire as he slowly pulled himself back up, his fur now matted and unwillingly adorned with twigs, leaves and dirt. He didn't care to spend any extra time here picking them out- he didn't care about anything at all. His tears continued to fall without order, whether from physical or emotional pain he could not say, but he would not attempt to stop their flow- not this time. He was alone now, and could be as openly discordant as he desired.
He padded steadily onwards, no longer running but rather a slow and unsteady gait, newly sore from his unfortunate meeting with an object uninvited. He was careless in that he made no effort to stifle his presence from anyone else who may be in the same area for whatever reason may warrant it- he wasn't hunting, Thistleback wasn't here to tell him to keep quiet- he could do as he pleased. And yet, as he continued his careless trek- he was shocked to find himself passing by another figure, too engulfed in his mental trance to notice the others presence until he himself was already in a clear field of view. It was Doeblaze, the she-cat who's introduction to him came in the secondhand form of bared claws, teeth, and anguished eyes.
...Hello.
She hailed him with an uncertain greeting, to which he simply stared in return- not exactly at her, but through her. His eyes were still bloodshot and wet, teetering on the cusp of complete vacancy and unspoken tragedy threatening to ignite them from deep within. He didn't return her greeting, instead turning to gaze down at the pile of- he actually wasn't sure, it looked like a pile of waterlogged ash, but he was certain this couldn't be the case, for there had been no fires nor rainfall to speak of in the recent moons. "What's that." It wasn't a question. His voice was terribly hoarse, crackling like thunder, and paired with his guttural accent, it was almost unintelligible.
