As Days Grow Shorter...

His old bones were feeling the growing chill in the air.

Scorch had found himself at SkyClan's border more and more often, addicted to the nostalgic smell of pine sap and rotting leaves. He shivered at the breeze's soft whisper against his bare stomach. Despite coming here so often - occasionally daring to traverse the maze of towering trees he knew so well - the old tom still fled at the first sign of SkyClan cats. He was sure they knew of his presence now. But still he came, drawn in by the now bleary sights of sunlight striking through the dancing leaves high above. It was something he could never bring himself to forget. Even during his moons of confinement among the Twolegs, daydreams of his old home kept his hope alive. 'I'm still here,' he called out in his mind, into the trees, towards the camp whose location he still remembered by heart. And yet still his paws stayed frozen to the spot, just barely outside the border. He was half hoping to get caught here by a passing patrol.

Then maybe he could see how his once beloved Clan had grown, even while he ran from them with his ugly, nearly bald tail streaming behind him.

Rippedsky watched silently from a distance. Blue eyes lay settled on the strange, half-burned tom that lingered near the border. It had actually taken him a second to realize it was a cat. At that time, the deputy had decided to halt his patrol and watched. So far, this cat had not crossed the border or seemed to be threatening to do so. Instead, he merely lingered there. He searched for some sign of intent before simply attacking the other tom.

Finally, after a moment of deciding, the deputy broke from his hiding place and stood across from Scorch just inside of Skyclan territory. There was no sign of aggresion. He was on guard, but showed no signs of attacking before he knew thw strangers business. He meowed neutrally, "Greetings. My name is Rippedsky of Skyclan. What business do you have so near our territory?" The fur on his shoulders lay flat as he waited for some sort of response.

This time, the old loner did not flee at the sound of leaves being crunching underfoot. He himself wasn't sure why he stayed right where he was. Although his legs itched to move when the black and white tom appeared, he still would not get up. How odd that was. He turned his face so that his good eye - the right one - could get a better look. This cat had an air of authority around him, and Scorch could only assume he was leading this border patrol. So he was at least a senior warrior. 'How old does that make me?'

With one ear listening for any other cats, he tried to answer as pleasantly as possible. He wanted to know how his former clan was doing. "Good morning." A broken purr rumbled in his throat, ending with a hoarse wheeze. "I apologize if I'm a bit too close for comfort, Rippedsky. I've been wanting to see how SkyClan was getting along." His blurry gaze moved between several tall, spindly black shapes along the tree line, and for one moment he felt the long-dead flames rush over his body once again. "There was a fire, wasn't there?" His voice was low, quiet, and it hurt his lungs to speak this way. "Is everyone alright?"

I wanted to see how Skyclan was getting along. The deputy had not been to alarmed by the stranger's presence, only a slight bit concerned with his unsightly appearance. However, the elderly tom's polite and respectful tone only put him a little more at ease. What struck him, though, was the idea that this unknown rogue had any sort of business with their clan. His tail tip twitched slightly as Scorch attempted to speak. The words were struggled and raw. After glancing around and subtly tasting the air, he was confidant this cat had come alone. All he could think past that was how much this loner's throat probably cried for the soothing relief of honey. Maybe Rabbitfoot could bring him some if he was still near the border. The concern of a rogue was a funny thing to be grateful for, but Rippedsky found himself dipping his head slightly in a nod.

"The fire did not make if far. All of my clan is well. Strong as ever, in fact." The deputy's eyes narrowed slightly before he asked with a genuine curiousity, "I don't mean to come across as rude, but why should any of this concern a rogue? Don't you have things to do other than stare into our lands?" None of his question even hinted at anything other than the confusion he felt about the whole matter. It was clear that the horrendously scarred tom was of no threat. Rippedsky felt no anger, only compassion for the loner, as he stared him over while waiting for a response.

So no one was hurt. That was good. There was a slightly unfamiliar scent in the air, although it wasn't coming from the warrior before him. It lingered in a thin, singular trail, intertwined with several normal SkyClan scents, but more wild and cold. He decided not to ask. The tom returned his clouded, honey-colored gaze to Rippedsky. He seemed like a trustworthy cat. "Oh, I've been around so long you tend to grow fond of those who have always been there." There was a chuckle rising up in Scorch's dry throat. "But to tell you the truth, son, I need to let you in on a secret. You seem kind enough. Would you mind lending an ear? You can choose to believe me, if you like." Perhaps he wouldn't believe him, and the old tomcat could pass it off as a light joke.

He had no idea what he'd do if the warrior found some truth in his words. Maybe he'd play the part of a senile elder, play off of his ragged looks and bony frame, try and get away 'With Leaffall approaching, I might not have that much time left anyway.'

"I suppose there's no harm in listening in what you have to say..." His words trailed off into the wind as he looked over the ancient tom curiously. This cat made him feel like a young apprentice again. It was a strange feeling, one he had not felt in moons since having his own kits and grand-kits, but it was not an unwelcome one. Rippedsky continued to stand, although he felt the urge to settle down and listen to the elder speak. If circumstances were different, this tom could have easily been a clan elder. Scorch would have been treated kindly in a clan for his moons of service, instead of struggling to just survive on his own. It was rather unfortunate. He stared quizzically at the scarred cat as he wondered what this secret could possibly be. A kit-like curiosity blossomed in the tom's chest for a moment.

A rough purr rumbled from within his bare chest. He leaned forward, taking care not to step over the boundary, and murmured to the SkyClan deputy, "I'm sure you've been told that SkyClan has not always been in the forest. I remember seeing a new group of cats enter the mostly vacant trees." His eyes glazed over at the memory. That was when he'd first felt something soft under his pawpads, the pine needles and the rotting leaves. He remembered the first time they set paw in camp. There had been so much work to be done, but it was all so worth it to have a reliable place to sleep, food to eat, and other cats to rely on. For a moment he was lost in thought, reliving the many moons he'd spent under those trees.

But he'd left. He'd left after seeing what he'd become and how useless he'd be. SkyClan had been so short on warriors, they didn't need one that could barely see, nor one that needed physical warmth to survive the harsh Leafbare nights. Scorch squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. "I've missed these trees far too much." His heart ached to be under their high branches again. He wanted to relive that moment when his paws first touched the hard-packed dirt of SkyClan's camp. He stared at his pawpads at an old scar, given to him long ago by a long-dead fox as he defended the camp. "SkyClan wasn't always strong. There were so few of us," his voice was soft as he stared at the faint white marks on and around his bare paw. "When I was burned, I needed to leave. For their sake. I couldn't hunt or fight, I could barely finish my apprentice's training." He pulled back and shivered, whether from a sudden gust of wind or something else was anyone's guess. Scorch shook his head and tried to rise to his paws. "I'm sorry, this must sound ridiculous."

A thoughtful look overtook the tom's feature as he listened to Scorch's tale. From the sound of it, he had been a part of the original Skyclan. It seemed a little insane, but based on the look of how old he was, and the fact this rogue knew of the clan's origins, it did appear to be a bit plausible. His tail flicked up to rest on the other cat's shoulder and stop him from leaving. The feeling behind the word's touched something in his heart. A soft, albeit slightly saddened smile crept onto his maw as he meowed, "It sounds about as ridiculous as a Windclan born cat becoming the deputy of Skyclan. I suppose many implausible things are possible these days..."

The lean black and white tom signaled for the loner to settle down once more. There was no reason to send him away. Besides, if there was truth to his claims, this cat was as much of a clanmate as any of the cats that slept in his den. In fact, he probably was more Skyclan than Rippedsky himself. As he looked over the stranger, he could not help but think about how much he wanted to take him back to camp to see one of the medicine cats. His blue eyes traced the tom's long-healed wounds before adding, "What is your name?"

The old tom flinched at the touch, fully expecting his skin to be met with sharp claws for such strange words. So he was rightfully surprised when there was no pain nor any harsh things thrown in his direction. His milky gaze flickered across the other tom's face. What did he mean by that? '...'about as ridiculous as a WindClan born cat becoming the deputy of SkyClan'? If that's a phrase, it's an oddly specific one.' Although, he could see that the black and white warrior before him did not appear to have to have to same strong back legs that Scorch still possessed, even after all these seasons of self-inflicted exile. It was a bittersweet thing.

His ears - or what was left of them rather - perked slightly at the question. His name? He didn't have any real name anymore, his warrior name had long been lost to the clan through what he assumed to be dishonor and simple memory fading away. Was anyone he had known still alive? After all this time? The name Maplecloud didn't fit him anymore, not in the slightest. "It's more of a nickname than anything else, but most cats call me Scorch." A half grin made its way to his face. "A bit direct, isn't it?" A wheezing laugh rose to his dry tongue. He couldn't remember the last time someone had called him without some hint of disgust, not to mention by his original name.

Scorch? That was no warrior name. The harsh relevance of the name made the black and white tom's heart flood with pity. This cat had been lost for so long, severely injured and without any companionship. His desire to take him back to camp only grew. Rabbitfoot and Oceanlight could soothe the pain of his wheezing laughs. He or Crowstar could change this tom's name to something far more fitting than the cruel nickname he had picked up at some point. Rippedsky nodded slightly at Scorch's last question. A soft sigh of resignation left his maw and he spoke up once more, "How would you like to come back to camp with me? Our medicine cats may be able to offer up something that can soothe your throat."

He found himself willing the strange cat to follow him back into the territory. If there was the possibility that this cat was Skyclan himself, Crowstar would not be able to deny him. Otherwise, the black leader would hopefully have the heart to at least let him rest for a short while. Other than the pity in his tender heart, the deputy felt as if he had found a bit of companionship with the loner. Rippedsky glanced back into the territory and flicked his tail, inviting the strange cat to cross the border. As the clan deputy, it felt strange to be inviting in an outsider. But, while he was kind, he was not stupid. If there was any bit of suspicious activity, he was prepared.

It took the tom a moment to process what the deputy had said. 'Go... Home?' He began to wonder if this was all some strange dream sprouted from waste gases and he would soon wake up and bump his head on the bottom of a dumpster. Well, if this was a dream, then he supposed he might as well just follow the warrior anyway.

But he could remember waking up this morning, rifling through trash for food scraps, and coming here after ending up empty-pawed. The burning, itching sensation he felt as a shaft of sunlight touched his skin was real. The bite from a mosquito on his leg was real too. Did he want this to be real? All of it? Scorch was briefly unsure as to what to say in response to any of this. Did Rippedsky truly believe him? Or was he just playing along with the story of some probably senile cat with an ugly mug? "You aren't pulling my tail or anything?" Despite the bit of learned wariness in his voice, there was a glint of joy in his soft eyes. A tentative step carried his body just over the border and suddenly a wave of relief came over him. Even if only for a little while, he was home.

Rippedsky smiled as Scorch crossed the border. Despite his wariness, he was glad to see the strange tom step across the border to join him. At the scarred loner's question, he shook his head, "I am glad to say I haven't had to pull anyone's tail since the Riverclan and Windclan battle." He turned in the direction of camp and signaled for the other cat to follow. The deputy kept his pace fairly slow and even so he could walk next to Scorch. There was no part of him that desired to leave the elderly, former Skyclan cat behind. They could talk to Crowstar when they got back. There was no doubt in his mind that the fair leader would accept back in a former warrior, no matter how long they had been gone.

"What was you name, if you don't mind me asking?" The black and white warrior's ear flicked. He longed to make some sort of conversation. Besides, he was curious. If Scorch had been a warrior before, he would have had a proper warrior name. The walk back to camp would take a short bit, so he hoped to maybe ask a few simple questions. It was clear his throat was still scarred from many moons ago so he hoped not to aggravate it. Regardless, Oceanlight and Rabbitfoot would take care of him soon.

Scorch was all eyes for the flame-colored leaves clinging to the canopies high above. It took the ancient tom a moment to realize his escort had spoken to him. His paws involuntarily skirted around a patch of sunlight to avoid the sting of the blazing sun. "It was Maplecloud." A lump was forming in the back of his throat, and it wasn't from the smoke still scratching from the depths of his lungs. Was he really going home? "But I suppose the cat who earned that name is long gone." As they walked he began to remember the path they were on, down to the little pebbles buried in the dirt. However, there were some young trees he didn't recognize, shortcuts he could tell were forged after his time. How long was he truly gone?