Skin and Bones [Closed]

They were kind cats, they truly were. It seemed to plague his mind how wonderful and welcoming the Windclan had been. Most strange loners or groups he had come across would slit your throat for less than looking in the wrong direction. He swallowed back lump that formed in his throat. The rabbit one of them had caught for him earlier seemed to stick in the back of his maw, something not easily forgotten. Patrick had briefly found the thought flitting through his head that perhaps it would be nice to join a group of cats again, especially ones who reminded him so much of the place he had come from. Ignoring such a thing had not come easy. But to push his anxieties away was a beast far from easy to tame. It was overwhelming. Right away he had wanted to bolt. But it was their niceties that drew him in, and the initial desire to return the convulsion inflicted healer to where he came from. Aspen Heart was a good cat and Arcayus found that he rather liked him.

The memory of the tom's face quickened his pace.

This was just another stop on his endless journey into the infinity ahead. He couldn't stay. It was for this reason he had slipped out under the cover of night time. There was solace here, in the ability to travel in darkness. To experience it allowed him to understand why some cats preferred to stay awake throughout the night. And in his circumstances, the bicolored tom had found it the best way to keep from running into others. Underneath the cloak of darkness, he sought to journey away from the confines of the moorlands. There was something freeing and constricting about the act. He further separated himself from everything. The longing for companionship seemed to linger more strongly than it had for a while. Since speaking with the other healing, this sensation had budded in his chest and seemed to stick like a bunch of spider webs. Patrick wanted to tear it all down and forget it. That would be the easiest way. But the calico pelted tom's expression, rugged, scarred pelted and all, had welded itself to his mind.

Once second he was pushing away these thoughts and the next he felt himself falling. His chin struck the ground roughly and he groaned. The tom's front, right paw had disappeared into the earth and it throbbed and ached almost instantly. Good ancestors... Curses swirled in his mind as he tried to right himself, struggling furiously with the effort. And he hadn't even made it far from camp. Immediately the panic rose up in his chest and overwhelmed him until he could hardly move. Oh, he was going to die. There was no doubt. This was it. In his final moments, he would die, running away from the very things he found the pits of his soul craving. Running like a coward. It was only fitting...

He was to be condemned here.

Elmskip sat in the shadows of the warriors' den, his sad eyes looking out over the moor without really seeing anything. Another restless night, another nightmare that kept him awake. He thought of WindClan, of the ugly beasts running rampant through their territory. He thought of Barleytuft, of Grousefrost, of Finchstar. Of Whisperpaw. Of Gustleap. Of Aspenheart.

There was a twinge of pain along his side and he craned his neck around to lick at his scabbing wounds. Maybe he was lucky to have managed to not get so scarred until recently. Or maybe his bad luck had finally caught up to him. He was now even more permanently disfigured, a large scar running across his face. Only a few mousesteps lower and he would have lost an eye.

Movement in camp caught his attention and he looked up, instantly on alert, peering through the darkness. He could tell by the scent that it was the loner Patrick. Why was he leaving so soon? He could have just waited until morning,  surely Finchstar would like to see him off. Patrick's face appeared in his mind often, something like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. The warrior slowly got to his feet and padded after the stocky tom, curious as to where he was going. Maybe he could convince him to stay for breakfast. Besides, a walk to clear his head might benefit him.

Elmskip was just about to ask him where he was going when he tripped and fell, banging his chin into the ground with a groan. The tortoiseshell tom stopped for a moment, surprised, then hesitantly crept closer. He cleared his throat quietly, trying not to startle Patrick. "Uh, are...you okay? What are you doing out here? It's uh, it's much safer in camp..."

It was only a moment passed, but it felt like an eternity. Patrick's underbelly and chin were pressed to the ground. His frame shook ever so slightly with the fear, disappointment, and pain. Moons of frustration welled up in his chest as he panicked. Claws gripped the earth instinctively. A bolt of pain fired up the tom's forepaw. How had he ended up like this? He didn't move. But at the sound of a clearing throat, he struggled to scrabble to his feet, wincing at the fire and stumbling slightly as he sought to move away from the direction of the sound. Arcayus whipped around, as quickly as he could in his weakened state, with heaving sides. His gaze took a second to focus on the blurred figure underneath the cloak of darkness but he was easily able to pick apart the orange patches of the tortoiseshell that had caught his attention earlier. Air seemed to hitch in the back of his throat and words stuck heavy there.

How could he justify such a lowly action to cats who had brought nothing but hospitality to him? And why was it so hard to speak underneath the handsome tom's stare?

Another breath, and his panic slowed slightly. It seemed easy to quell his anxious, finding comfort instead of nervousness as he gathered the sight of the stranger. Arc shook his head slightly, trying to convince both himself and Elm Skip that he was okay. But trying to place his paw gingerly on the ground revealed otherwise and he felt his ears heat up slightly. A sigh escaped the sides of his maw, finding words that didn't quite feel right, as if they were not enough to justify his cause to this particular cat, "Yeah, uh, yeah, I'm fine. I'm okay. I think I might have twisted my paw though." He swallowed, preparing himself to answer the other question, "Yeah, I'm, uh, I have to go. I can't stay here. Ya know they call us loners for a reason right? You've all been so great but I think I have to head out before... yeah." He laughed nervously but it died out and ended in an exhausted sigh. Arcayus turned to leave, hobbling a few steps, but he wasn't used to managing his bulk on only three paws. A few steps, and he gave up with a grit of his teeth.

"I guess I'm not going anywhere now, huh?"