- Apr 28, 2023
- 22
- 5
- 3
The last moon had been filled with delirium and fever dreams. He had given up hope early on when his mind started playing tricks on him, making him hear the voice of his deceased mate. It was a cruel trick that only opened the wound again and he laid in whatever nest he was put in waiting to pass.
But things kept happening, things he wasn't completely lucid for but had a vague understanding of what happened. Rogues, moving territories... He ended up in Shadowclan, he remembers. The mournful cries of cats haunted him as more cats died to Yellowcough. He wonders if this is the sickness that killed his parents.
Regardless, his mental state is in shambles as he leaves the medicine den for good this time. Lean figure now nearly skin and bones, fur messy with bits of moss from his nest sticking to it and sunken eyes staring dully ahead. He looks terrible, but he feels better, at least.
Except he has no energy.
He is hungry, but the pile feels so far....
He brute forces his way through his exhaustion and lack of energy and will. The walk to the fresh kill pile feels long and grueling, eyes focused on his goal because if anything else distracted him he may not even get there.
He takes a squirrel from the pile and moves off to the side, letting himself collapse into a laying position to eat.
Already he starts to feel better, life slowly returning to his eyes as he continues. He supposes he should thank the journey cats for this second chance, even if he had been resigned to giving up early on.
He was cared about enough to be saved and he doesn't know how to deal with it.
But things kept happening, things he wasn't completely lucid for but had a vague understanding of what happened. Rogues, moving territories... He ended up in Shadowclan, he remembers. The mournful cries of cats haunted him as more cats died to Yellowcough. He wonders if this is the sickness that killed his parents.
Regardless, his mental state is in shambles as he leaves the medicine den for good this time. Lean figure now nearly skin and bones, fur messy with bits of moss from his nest sticking to it and sunken eyes staring dully ahead. He looks terrible, but he feels better, at least.
Except he has no energy.
He is hungry, but the pile feels so far....
He brute forces his way through his exhaustion and lack of energy and will. The walk to the fresh kill pile feels long and grueling, eyes focused on his goal because if anything else distracted him he may not even get there.
He takes a squirrel from the pile and moves off to the side, letting himself collapse into a laying position to eat.
Already he starts to feel better, life slowly returning to his eyes as he continues. He supposes he should thank the journey cats for this second chance, even if he had been resigned to giving up early on.
He was cared about enough to be saved and he doesn't know how to deal with it.
