How far could one travel before reaching the ends of the earth?
This was the question that constantly ran through the tom's mind. Vast forests, walker touched earth, lakes and rivers seemed to be as far as the eye could see and as any one cat could walk. Endless and eternal. It was both a comforting and terrifying thought. On one paw, the former would mean that he could keep running until breath no longer graced his lungs. On the other, there would be no salvation, no rest, for this particular loner. And that was all he longed for. His soul craved peace and rest but running from ones past was no an easy feat. Becoming another cat in name and status was nearly impossible. Besides, cats like to ask questions and Arcayus was not a particularly good liar. Ants prickled underneath his coat with burning inquires and overwhelmed his inherently anxious spirit.
In kithood, his mother teased that a skittish mouse had more gumption than her son. The rest of his siblings had found it to be humorous, while to the soot and sun-coated tom, those words clawed at his conscious like the scratch of a shrew. It seemed like entire life times ago when he reflected on his youth. Several generations of kits had already been bore after. He would have been shocked if Artemis wasn't out there with a litter or two of his own already. At the thought of his older brother, there was a pang of sorrow. As kits, the older cat had been one of the few to take any interest in Arcayus. Most of the Oasis cats, namely his father, were less than enthused by his timid nature. But they hadn't been all bad, even if an unkind word or two had come his way. He'd been sickly in his youth, and several adventurers had been sent out to seek cures and aid. Somehow he had survived it all, even with the weakness he still possessed. His travels had proven that had he been born into another situation, perhaps his life would have ended many seasons ago.
Now, he was an adventurer in his own way. Although, it wasn't for the betterment of home that he traveled on and on, until his paws were cracked and weary. Guilt. Why could he never shake this burning pit in his stomach? It seemed that as much as he tried and pressed in life, his roots were something not easily tucked away for some other cat to deal with. He could never go back. There was nothing to go back to. And he couldn't spend time dwelling on something that wasn't even his burden to bear. Another cat would fix it. Perhaps Artemis had even gone home and saved the day already. That was his brother's thing. The elder tom bore the trademark white fur, cut with a few markings, that most Oasis cats bore. Arc didn't have even a splash of white across his coat. What gave away his heritage was the large stature he boasted, even if he was a bit more stocky than most. Especially now. Even if he did not stay in one place for long, the bicolored tom had a knack for finding bountiful areas.
Recently, he had come across this lovely little area with a stream that rushed lazily next to a fallen log. But this one was poisoned with sickness, something he could smell even with his dulled senses and he was forced to carry on. Which lead him here. Ahead was a well-worn walker nest that looked moons abandoned. He'd come across several in the past. Thankfully, there was still just enough daylight left from the sun as it peaked over the rocky outcropping behind. His eyes darted over the structure, peering around for signs of another creature. When there was a flicker of movement, he froze and stared ahead. Hopefully this cat was friendly and, more important...
"Hey there, friend, a-are ya sick?"
