'Cause I'm hollow, hollow

His steps were slow, calculated. His breath came in prolonged exhales, sullen eyes trained almost longingly on the horizon - his home. He was here, at last, after so long.

It felt strange. The tom's mind wandered, flashbacks of his time growing up in Windclan's borders passing in quick bursts before his vision. His legs wobbled. He looked a sight now - scars littered his pelt, and a deep tear in one ear was a permanent mark of his troubles. He looked like a fearsome, battle scarred man, which he supposed he was, though the marks he bore were not gained in a glorious fight, more a frenzied action of defense that he had barely escaped from. He was lucky to have limbs intact.

Gustpuddle.

Truthfully, she was the one leading his paws, even if her image was only a picture his mind had brought up to taunt him. He needed to see her. How long had he been gone? Many moons, many, many moons - that was all he knew. And now he stood at Windclan's borders, yellow gaze awaiting any sign of a figure he knew to appear. Perhaps even a passing patrol.

Hollowfang.... was home?

"Who are you?" Thornpaw stood at the top of a bluff nearby, the wind blowing through his long, gray tabby pelt. His pale blue-green eyes were narrowed as he stared down the outsider, taking in his marred appearance and dark pelt. He had never seen this cat in his life; and that meant only one thing. Given his unfortunate past with rouges, he was a little more than hesitant to approach the stranger. Luckily, the newcomer likely couldn't sense his anxiousness.
"Smokepelt," He turned to his mentor, a faint flicker of anxious reverence in his eyes. This tom could protect him from anything that came their way, and he was grateful for it. It didn't hurt that he had recently discovered that Smokepelt was Ashstar's son.
"What do we do?"

OOC: YEE

"D-do you mind getting out of the wuh s-so I can s-see?" Pigeonstorm grumbled, squeezing himself past Thornpaw. He squeezed his eyes, scanning the grass for whatever the tabby apprentice had spotted. There. A skinny black tom, battle-scarred and barely standing on his feet. His heart started racing, but he didn't know why. Had he seen this cat before? Certainly not. He had taken multiple trips to the Barn to visit his old caretakers and the new loners that were there, but not once had he seen this fellow. Did this loner come from far away? Why was he walking with so much purpose, like if he knew this place? He racked his brain, but nothing came up. He was about to go tell the others that the strange intruder may be hostile, but then a slight turn of the head and Pigeonstorm and the loner made eye contact. Those yellow eyes, glinting in oh-such a familiar way. The same way they were scrunched up to keep out the wind, the same thoughtful expression. 

"Hollowfang!"

Pigeonstorm didn't even have enough time to process what was happening. The scarred gray tom sprinted down the hill, sending a small cloud of dust behind him. He bowled over the black tom in a flurry of excitement. "Hollowfang, H-Hollowfang, great S-Sturclan, I thought you were d-d-dead!" the warrior exclaimed, beaming a smile with his half-broken jaw. The whole grumpy-warrior side of him was gone, replaced by the exitement and energy of his younger years. His brother was back! He gave his brother a playful cuff on the head, before jumping off of him so he could stand up. "I-I can't believe yu're alive! I c-c-c-ant! I thought yuh were d-dead!" He repeated again, bouncing up and down like if he was a little kit. Hollowfang had disappeared before Pigeonstorm could make it back to the clans, and he always wished for him to return. And here he was! His yellow gaze settled downwards, towards his scarred, battered body, and his smile disappeared. "Hollowfang, w-what happened to yuh?" he murmured worriedly, giving his brother an anxious look.

Poppycloud had been trailing a bit behind the patrol, making sure no one missed anything important. She had stopped to inspect a feather, briefly checking the area to see if its owner was still nearby. It appeared not to be in the vicinity, so she had been trotting rather quickly in order to catch up with her Clanmates when she started hearing anxious voices. She picked up her pace, arriving just as Pigeonstorm cried, "Hollowfang!"

Hollowfang? She didn't recognize this cat... he must have gone missing before she was apprenticed, or even before she was born. Surely, he wasn't from another Clan. "Who is this cat?" she asked cautiously. Pigeonstorm seemed quite familiar with him, as if they had been denmates once, or maybe even littermates. "Are you aware that you're in WindClan territory?" She didn't mean to bombard the newcomer with questions, but they were necessary.

The black tom waited with a lump in his throat - there was every chance that he might not be able to re-join Windclan. There was every possibility that they'd all forgotten about him... even Gustpuddle. That, or she could have moved on. Nothing would break him more than seeing his love with another, and he silently prayed to Starclan that she was still his.

A voice called out to him, and Hollowfang's gaze shot upward to meet that of a young cat, perhaps apprentice age. Who are you? He had been prepared to answer, but the words could not fall from his throat before another cat stepped toward him - and this one made his heart stop for a second. His brother. "I... you..." Rarely did his voice fail him, but it had been so long. In what felt like only a moment, the grey tom had barreled into him, pushing him to the floor. A rare sound left his lips then, one usually only Gustpuddle could bring out - a short laugh. There was a slight sparkle in his eyes, the joy of being home settling in like a stone. "I... I'm alive. Yes, I am." He was almost astonished at the idea himself.

Then came the questions of what happened? And, from another cat, are you aware that you're in Windclan territory? Oh, he almost laughed again. "Yes... I am. I used to be a warrior here, but some stuff happened..." His eyes trailed over to Pigeonstorm. "It's a long story. Ah, dogs and two-legs, I'll say that much at least. Is there..." Looking toward the she-cat again, Hollowfang quirked his head curiously, a glimmer of hope in his yellow orbs. "Is there any chance I can follow you to camp? Explain my story, to whoever leads Windclan now? I promise I am not here to cause harm. I... I want to return home, if you'll have me."

Thornpaw lifted his lip, still wary of the stranger. "We'll take you to Brindlestar..." He grunted, his thick gray tail sweeping the ground. "She can decide whether or not you're telling the truth." The tall tom tossed his head, shooting Poppycloud a quick glance. Let's get moving... He didn't want to waste time here, not if he had a chance to impress Brindlestar.

"Alright, then," Poppycloud relented, though she was still hesitant to lead this stranger directly into WindClan territory. "You can speak to Brindlestar. I can't promise anything, though," she warned. Frowning at Thornpaw's impatience, she gestured to the outsider. "Let's go." For all her doubts about him, she couldn't help but feel sorry for this cat. He seemed to have been through a lot, although he could be lying. Dogs and twolegs weren't something to joke about, either way. The ginger-splashed turned back towards camp, trotting slowly so the injured outsider could keep up.