destination known [solo]

After leaving camp, everything felt suspiciously easy. It was just too easy to walk and keep walking and step over a Clan border and out of line with the code and into rogue territory. The full moon still hung high over Clovertwist’s lean silver tabby body as he raced across the abandoned farmland that marked the territory of the abandoned barn.  He remembered the curving farmland and grass under his paws. It seemed it was only a moon ago that he’d come here by accident and discovered Mink while hunting for his Clan. It had been so much longer, though; Barleytuft was dead now, as was Mink, and Graybriar and Finchstar as well. Clovertwist knew that Mink could have made a comfortable living in the barn, and guilt pulled at his limbs. If the loner tom had stayed in the barn, would he have been as susceptible to the illness that took his life? Had Clovertwist inadvertently exposed his friend to harm even without the threat of other Clans or a corrupted StarClan? Having been close with medicine cats his entire life, the tom never considered the risk posed by being in a group even with the benefit of healers.

No. His companion had enjoyed the companionship he’d received, even if it was bitterly short-lived. Clovertwist would have to live his best life in the barn to honor the memory of the little loner tom who’d shown him it was possible. It was the least he could do to apologize - it was all he could do. He wondered sadly if Mink was even allowed to go to StarClan, since he was a loner kit who’d never taken the warrior vow. It was stupid that Clovertwist feared that of the ancestors he’d always known and trusted, but that trust was broken, and it had more than contributed to his departure from WindClan and warrior life. His heart ached about what and who he’d left behind. The world, though, made no attempts to hinder his flight. When he padded up to the looming structure of the barn, he was relieved to scent it was unoccupied - he wasn’t sure when last there’d been a visitor. Surely not as far back as Mink.

The silver tom stepped into the musty darkness of the barn; moonlight filtered through holes in the walls, glistening on the aged hay and straw scattered inside. Clovertwist’s pale amber eyes adjusted swiftly to the darkness. Now at his destination, he felt… nothing. He began to aimlessly wander, the weight of his decision feeling surprisingly absent. Where were the nerves and anxiety he’d felt departing the camp, and the days leading up to it? Where was the relief, if this was the right choice? As he moved through the barn, mice appeared, disappeared, and reappeared sporadically around him. He didn’t pay attention to them, though he knew how easy they’d be to catch. He just wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t really… anything. Clovertwist made his way up towards the loft and the rafters, sneezing once against the dust that stirred.

When he peaked the stairs, the Clan cat’s pale eyes were drawn immediately to the sight of distant great, dark trees. Clovertwist sat at the base of the crack in the wall, staring out intently. Fourtrees waited there, with all the Clans. Everyone was talking and sharing news. Some cats might even be making friends. He hoped that his siblings were doing alright. He sighed and slowly slumped down, laying on his belly with his chin resting on his outstretched forelegs. The stars glimmered above, remote and impossible. Clovertwist blinked at them for a while, thoughts flickering between the choice he’d made, the choices he would make, and the Clan and cats he loved. One by one the thoughts grew quieter, and eventually sleep welcomed the tom.

When Clovertwist awoke in the morning, the first day of his new life as a loner began.