the voices off camera [closed for fox]

At the fringes of the twolegplace, there was a tiny barn. The vibrant red frame was complimented with a charcoal black roof that seemed to digest the sun's rays. Just underneath the shadow of this structure flitted about a the silken form of a she-cat. Her russet coat was reminiscent of the place she called home - russet dashed through with darker markings but highlights of what had once been pure what. Often, her coat was tarnished by a dusting of earth on account of the rigorous labor of daily life. Hollyhock's teeth worried at the small bit of straw that perched precariously in her jaw. Something to gnaw at distracted her from the strain.

Chickens to be checked on. Bugs oughta be chased from the garden. Surely someone has looked after the dog today and made sure 'e 'asn't strayed too far again.

Despite being far from the largest cat, obvious muscle rippled underneath her coat. A lean frame didn't prevent the she-cat from possessing unusual amounts of strength. With each spry step, the barn cat covered an impressive amount of distance. There was no time to waste with the extensive list of chores constantly running through her mind. The upwalkers that looked after her were more than kind and always cared well for her. It had been moons since Hollyhock had found her stomach rumbling or wounds left untended. While many cats other than the house pets seemed to avoid upwalkers, she had found it to be the most pleasant life style. Many moons ago she had been born in a vast garden with plentiful resources and a heart seeking the greater world. When she had found life on her own to be a burden to great to bear, he kind upwalkers had staved off an early death - for that she would be eternally indebted to them and thoroughly devoted to the farm.

Out of the corner of her eye was where she caught sight of the ragged frame. It stopped her short in her tracks. Scenting the air with a delicate pink nose, the scent of cat, marred by wounds came to her quickly. This wasn't the first time a hurt creature had appeared at her doorstep but usually it was an escaped house cat and not something that looked like it had spent twenty lifetimes outdoors. She proceeded with cautious pawsteps, abandoning any thoughts of the work to be done in favor of looking after what she had determined to be a tom. Once Hollyhock was close enough in range she leaned over the still frame and stared. What a strange creature with all these clawmarks. Something terrible must have happened to them.

While at times she could be blunt or overbearing, nothing was more true to her nature than a soft heart. Whatever it took she would care for him but for now... she needed more information at the least. Her voice was soft as she spoke but it rang with warmth and conviction, "Well, now, sugar... seems like you've been through a thing or too. What do you say we get you taken care of now, 'ight?"

It had been a couple days since the strange metal thing had hit Briarthorn's leg, and the wound had not gotten better with time. Despite his best efforts, he had been unable to find any of the herbs that would help his wound in this late leaf-bare. He would have loved to put some marigold on for infection, to be able to wrap his leg in soft cobwebs, to be able to stay off the leg but still have food to eat and water to drink... But those were conveniences from a past life. Briarthorn had been unable to even find dried oak leaves this late in leaf-bare, and had to make do with rough grass for a bandage instead of cobwebs. He didn't have to look at the wound to know how bad it must be. After staying in the field and tried to stay off the leg, Briarthorn had given into the hunger and attempted to look for food. He had been unsuccessful, and just put his leg in worse shape than it already was. His head was feeling foggy as he came across the small barn. He remembered that some twolegs kept herbs through all seasons, and even if this place didn't have any, the barn would offer some safety from the weather.

Briarthorn stumbled into the entrance to the barn. He barely had time to register that there was a cat coming towards him before he collapsed, his injured leg refusing to hold up his weight any longer. The presence of another cat put him on edge until he heard her voice. It was soft and sweet, there was no malice hidden in it. He relaxed slightly and lifted his head up to get a good look at her. She had sleek red fur which darkened on her back and kind eyes. She looked well fed and taken care of, so she was likely some sort of kittypet.

When she offered to help him, Briarthorn opened his mouth to protest but then stopped himself. She may be a kittypet, but he was in no position to refuse help. His leg was getting worse, and he hadn't eaten in... He didn't even know how long. She obviously had food and water, and maybe there would be some herbs around here. "I guess you could say that..." He said weakly in response to her comment. He attempted to stand, but fell down once more.

"Oh, hold on, honey-" She noticed his attempts to stand and as he failed and faltered, Hollyhock pressed her pelt to him without hesitation. Lowering her head, the she-cat tried to nudge Briarthorn to his paws. Shelter wasn't far ahead. Thankfully, the trained strength underneath a silken coat helped to nudge along the stranger. This had been the last thing on her list but there was no way that an injured cat could be left alone. Within a few moments, the foreign tom would be resting on a soft and clean bed of hay. The soft noises of mice rooting about the barn caused her ears to flickered ever so slightly. It was merely a familiar background and yet, given the circumstances, such things were a point of interest.

"All'right, you can settle in here." Inside the rather spacious barn was a loose mound of hay. Various upwalker odds and ends were scattered about, seemingly settled into some form of organization. Hollyhock took a step back. Delicately pressing her pads into stray bits of straw, the loner helped to form a more proper nest around her guest, "Better? I'll say we should fix you up with something to eat too... clearly you've been through a lot but we can worry about that later." She padded away flicking her tail. Stalking the mice was easy and within moments, Hollyhock returned with a pair between her teeth. Both were offered to Briarthorn.

Afterwards, there came a low hum. Her gaze flickered about to find a stray pelt. The thing was white and soft, stained from use on one of the many upwalker objects. She snatched it quickly, dipping it in a nearby collection of water. Once that was before the tom, Hollyhock settled down and tucked her paws underneath her, "Get your strength and then we can talk, stranger. Suppose you have a name?"

With help from the loner, Briarthorn was able to get to his paws and walk slowly and shakily further into the barn. It was decently warm inside, shielded from the harsh winds of Leafbare. As he padded forwards, he was surprised by a scent that smelled like the moor during Greenleaf. Sure enough, the she-cat led him to a large pile of what seemed to be dried grass. Why was there so much of it here?

As he settled down into a nest of the dried grass, the loner left to find something for him to eat. I hope that it's not those kittypet pellets, Briarthorn hoped silently. He had overheard cats at gatherings mention the strange, dry pellets that twolegs fed their kittypets. Even though he knew that he was hungry enough to eat practically anything, he would still rather eat fresh meat. She returned with two mice, which he began to eat immediately. It felt as if he hadn't had meat in moons. Briarthorn wanted to eat them as fast as possible, but forced himself to eat slowly so that he wouldn't make himself sick. He finished the first mouse, and after a moment of hesitation, ate the other one as well.

Briarthorn looked up as the she-cat asked his name. He looked down a moment, as if ashamed, before he spoke. "My name... my name is Briarthorn." After a moment of awkward hesitation he added on "What's yours...?" He hadn't really spoken to many cats not of the clans. Unless he counted Zinnia, Haypaw, and the other cats who had joined WindClan. Briarthorn never spoke to the kittypets, loners, and rogues who often trespassed on WindClan's territory, he usually just chased them off.

Seeing him eat brought about a sense of satisfaction, and hope. It gave the barn she-cat great joy to aid those who crossed her path and see them regain their strength. Hollyhock was always more than willing to lend a paw in any part that she could play for another cat. Before responding with her own name, the she-cat nosed the soaked pelt forward, "Drink too. A mouse won't quite quench your thirst, sweetheart." Despite the softness of the words, they were equally as stern. Health came before conversation and in his state, they would surely have quite some time to talk. After narrowing her gaze at him for a moment and waiting for him to drink, the barn cat finally offered a response.

"Name's Hollyhock, sugar. Call me Holly, if you want though." It wasn't often that she offered up a shorter name, only few cats she knew well were allowed to address her by it, for the she-cat was proud of her name and its origins. However, as her ears heated unnaturally, it just felt like the right thing to offer. Despite his current condition, this Briarthorn seemed to be of a strong spirit, like the scars that marred his pelt betrayed. Admittedly, she found herself looking forward to his company and knew that he'd be the first cat to try to leave before he was fully healed. She made up her mind to sit on his tail if that was the case.

"'d like to say that Briarthorn is a strange name but I've heard it all now. Where ya from, Briarthorn? I don't suppose its anywhere near here." Hollyhock glanced around the barn, shrugging off thoughts of the previous duties that had run through her mind, "Ya don't have to tell me your past, though, I know some cats have things they don't like to talk about that that's right fine by me. Only what you want to share, honey. Seems we've got some time."

Briarthorn drank from the wet pelt that the she-cat offered him, not realizing until he began to drink just how thirsty he was. He looked up as the loner told him her name. Hollyhock... he thought to himself. That almost sounds like a clan name. Some loners and kittypets had names that made absolutely no sense. Words like "Sally" or "Jake" which had absolutely no meaning to them. Hollyhock, however, was a type of beautiful flower. It was a name with meaning, one that provoked thoughts and imagery. It was a fitting name for a she-cat like her.

Hollyhock asked him where he was from. Briarthorn looked away for a moment before responding, wondering how much he should say, or if he should say anything at all. "I... Your right, I'm not from anywhere near here." He closed his eyes, envisioning the home that he hadn't seen in moons. "I come from a moor that's a far ways from here. A large windswept plane covered with long grass and small shrubs. It's filled with rabbits and birds..." Briarthorn trailed off, opening his eyes and looking away from where Hollyhock sat. Stars above, he missed WindClan. It had been his home for many seasons. But no longer. I wonder how Goldengale, Softbreeze and Downtuft are doing. I hope that WindClan is doing better now that I'm not there making everything worse for everyone.

As he spoke of home, the tom seemed to trail off into his own thoughts. It seemed there was a past there, history left unsaid. Hollyhock didn't want to press so instead she focused on trying to conjure up the image of this own he described. She remembered her own origins for a moment and relished in the lush and inviting environment, filled with boundless flowers and vibrant colors. This moor seemed like a sparser version of it. Maybe one of these days, perhaps one slower, would allow her to travel there just to see it for herself. Tipping her head back to him, she breathed softly, "Sounds beautiful, honey." There was a pause as she drank in his features, looking for something that was written there. Beyond the obvious exhaustion, there were many other layers and suddenly the desire to uncover them all overwhelmed her. Paws pricked at the hay beneath her pads and finally she dared another question, "Are you lookin' to return to this place? Perhaps I could help..."

Sounds beautiful, honey. Briarthorn hesitated a moment before speaking. "Yeah, it was..." There was a moment of silence. He looked at Holyhock, her red fur catching the sunlight that filtered through the door of the barn. She had such a kind, empathetic personality. The way that she was treating him... It was more than he deserved. Would she still treat me this way if she knew the murder that I am? Briarthorn contemplated. The stillness was broken as the she-cat asked him if he wanted to return to the moors. I wish I could! He wanted to scream the words that filled his mind. I wish I could run as fast as my legs would carry me back to the moors. To feel the wind in my fur, to be with my family once again... But no. I can't. I can never return to them after what I've done. Instead, he only offered two words for his response. "I... I can't." Briarthorn rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes, trying to keep tears from streaming out of them. He failed.