Here I come, but I ain't the same; [CLOSED]

Featherpaw exited the medicine den, mumbling to herself about herbs and the things she needed. She had taken to repeating to herself the knowledge she had, limited though it was, in an attempt to burn itself into her mind - long hours spent in the medicine den repeating the word 'chamomile', however, may have helped her memorize things but herbs made rather poor conversation partners. She was stepping out in hopes of finding her mother Brindlewhisker, or perhaps her sister Mistpaw, when she saw something she knew hadn't been there when she disappeared into her den.

Yes, she was quite certain there hadn't been a three-legged cat passed out on the ground and looking quite the opposite of the picture of good health when she had decided that nothing required her immediate attention and subsequently chosen to work on her memorization skills. She was small, and this cat appeared to be older than she was, but she did her best to drag him to her den. It certainly took a while, but once he was there she examined him thoroughly. Well, as thoroughly as she knew how. It was moments like these that she had to bite back her resentment of her former mentor, always worried that she would slip up and get something wrong and one of her Clanmates would pay the price. But right now the most pressing thing she noticed was that this cat needed food. Badly. And so the made her way to the fresh-kill pile, found a good-sized rabbit, and began dragging the thing back to her den with her. He probably needed water as well, and so she brought some well-soaked moss with her this time. It was hard to carry it as well, what with how small she was, but she would manage.

Once she was in her den once more, letting go of her grip on the rabbit and the moss when both were next to the unconscious cat (she doubted he was in the shape to move very much at the moment and so got everything as close as possible), she nudged him repeatedly with her paw. "Eat," she repeated over and over, her voice soft and gentle and hoping and praying to StarClan that he would hear her, that he would wake up, that he wouldn't... Die. (The word hurt to even think.) Another cat wouldn't die on her watch, not one that she could possibly help. That was why StarClan had called her to this position, right? To help? Not just to watch others suffer. Her ancestors wouldn't have done that to her, would they? Well. It wasn't something she could know, really. But for now she had work to do, and if that work was prodding a half-dead cat with her paw until he woke up, it was what she would do.

He was floating through inky blackness, a weightlessness in his three paws that made him unsure if he was dreaming or dead. He hoped for the latter but as he saw no StarClan cats to guide him to their home he resigned himself to believe he was just dreaming. It was pitch black, a pressing, heavy dark that weighed down on his fur, his aching muscles, his head. He felt himself slip further down into it and let himself float away, sinking, until a persistent prodding and a little voice brought him up closer to the surface. What in StarClan was that? It was so annoying, he just wanted to sleep. Forever. He was so tired. So hungry. The surface of the black crept closer and closer. The vague smell of rabbit filled his nose, he was faintly aware of his tail and paws twitching.

With a heave of his chest, the tom opened his eyes and squinted at the strange paw digging into his side. His head felt like it was full of cotton, or perhaps rocks, and his whole body ached with fatigue. It finally dawned on him that the little cat next to him had been saying "eat" that whole time. Without raising his head, he peered around the den. It was the medicine cat's den, he recognized the herbs in piles and the balls of cobwebs (He'd been forced to go there often in his kithood.). Curse it all, they found him. This little she-cat didn't appear to be the medicine cat, though, she looked too young. She was probably the apprentice but if that was true, where was her mentor? He could figure that out later as he was interested in who the current medicine cat was. He'd almost became the medicine cat apprentice when he was younger, because he was pretty useless and couldn't do anything else on those three legs of his. StarClan probably pitied him. For now, though, he needed something to eat and drink.

His green eyes fell on the water-filled moss clump near his face and he craned his neck to reach it, lapping at it carefully with a dry tongue. When he had gotten enough water as he could down his throat, he ever-so-slowly reached a dirty paw towards the rabbit. "I...need..." Hobblekit rasped, hooking a claw into the prey and pulling it over towards his mouth a little more.

Featherpaw let out a sigh of relief she hadn't realized she was holding in when the mysterious cat woke up, and another when he began to eat. "Oh, thank StarClan, you're awake. When you feel like you can talk, can you tell me what your name is?" After she spoke, she realized it was probably rather rude to ask his name without offering her own - she wasn't used to introducing herself. Most of the time she was among Clanmates, who knew her by name and had since she was born.

Actually, now that she thought about it, this was the first time she had ever had to introduce herself to anyone. "I'm Featherpaw, the medicine cat apprentice of WindClan." She also nudged the water-soaked moss towards him. "Do you need something else?" she asked, sitting calmly nearby.

The poor tom was swallowing down chunks of that rabbit so fast there was a serious risk of him choking. Perhaps it was just because he was starving but this was probably the best rabbit he'd ever tasted. He had managed to push himself into a reclining position on his stomach, his front claws dug deep into the flesh of the prey. Hobblekit was acutely aware of the stumpy thigh of his missing leg as it rested on the ground; so far the medicine cat apprentice hadn't commented on it but surely she had noticed it.

At least she was nice to him, seeming relieved that he wasn't dead. But perhaps it was her job to be happy cats were alive. He paused in his rabbit-devouring when she asked what his name was and introduced herself as Featherpaw, swallowing one last bite before responding. His mouth and throat didn't feel as dry as they did before.

"Hobblekit," he replied slowly, still hoarse. He hated his name, it only drew more attention to his already apparent disability. He looked the she-cat over once now that he was in a better position to see her. She deserved to know the rest of the story, since they'd probably be spending a lot of time together while he recovered. The tom continued after another lap of water from the moss.

"I ran away when I was around 6 moons old, before I was able to have my apprentice ceremony. I ended up getting lost, wandered around the plains for ages, and finally found my way back...So if you're wondering, that's why my name is like that."

That was all he was going to say for now; if she wanted to know details she could ask. He went back to eating, slower this time. The food was so good that it was starting to give him a bellyache. "I'm...I'm fine right now, thanks..." he mewed.

Featherpaw nodded despite the frown on her face (Hobblekit didn't seem like the kindest name to give your kit regardless of the amount of legs they possessed), but then thought about his words. So this was a (former?) WindClan cat, who had run away and found his way back here? She didn't recall the name Hobblekit ever being mentioned to her, so it must have been a long time ago. "You've been gone a long time, haven't you?" she asked softly. "If there's anything you'd like to know, I'll do my best to tell you."

He devoured nearly the entire rabbit as they talked, leaving bones and scraps of fur in a small pile in front of him. He examined the pile briefly before pushing it away with his paw, then flopped over onto his side again. The tortoiseshell felt as if he could sleep for moons. He kept his gaze on Featherpaw, though, however half-lidded it was.

Hobblekit gave a small, wry snort of laughter at her words, the tip of his tail flicking. "You're not wrong," he said softly, pulling a paw up to carefully lick the rabbit's blood off. After a few moments he spoke again. "Do you know an old WindClan medicine cat named Gorsefeather? Or Emberleaf?"

Featherpaw shook her head. "I think I've heard their names, but... They've been gone since before I was born, at least I think they have? My mentor was Sageleaf," she added softly, but didn't elaborate. Instead the observed the devoured rabbit with a mixture of amusement and concern, but once more didn't say anything.

Sageleaf wasn't a name he was familiar with, perhaps they came after Emberleaf. Or perhaps he'd been gone longer than he thought. He seriously doubted his own mother even remembered him, let alone his littermates. If they were still around, that is. He didn't respond to the young she-cat, having closed his tired eyes instead. Hobblekit wasn't asleep yet, just reminiscing quietly. Finally he spoke, his voice laced with fatigue.

"Anything interesting happen while I was gone...?"

"A lot of things, I'm sure. Ashstar might be a better cat to ask about that," Featherpaw said quietly. "You might remember her?" the medicine cat apprentice mused. "Or my mother, Brindlewhisker."

Ashstar? Brindlewhisker?...No, those names didn't ring a bell either. Granted, he had only been a kit and the only cats he really knew about were the elders and the medicine cat. The only cats that actually talked to him on a regular basis that weren't his family. With a sudden pang, he realized that the elders he knew so many moons ago had probably all moved on to StarClan. That was a real shame, they used to regale the three-legged kit with tales from their youths.

"Maybe I should start talking to other cats..." he mused softly to himself. He fell silent again, drifting off to sleep. He mumbled one last thing, though, relaxing against the soft dirt of the den. "You should introduce me, Featherpaw..."