Hiding in his shell (closed solo)

On a certain newleaf evening, when the sun was just beginning to set and the creatures that stirred at night were waking with distant calls, a certain brown-and-white tomcat balanced skillfully on the top of a wooden fence that marked the perimeter of his owners’ territory. It actually marked where the horse pasture ended, but the tomcat never strayed farther. A certain clan of wildcats lived in the reed-filled land beyond, and this clan had formerly been the home of the brown-and-white cat - the barn cat as he was titled by traveling loners who occasionally stayed as guests. Some were much older than the barn cat, who was apparently one of the many, many forest cats who had lived and worked with the people on the farm, all hiding or running. Usually they hid or ran from the same thing: the wildcat clans of the forest. The most recent barn cat shared this certain trait.

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Turtlepaw stared blankly out at the land before him, eyes focused on nothing. It was a ritual of his, to stare at what had been his past life until the sun was completely gone and one of the twolegs called out for him to return to his nest in the barn. They never forced him into the big den, the house, nor did they touch him against his will. They simply filled his dishes with food and water, and usually they crowed something with their odd voices at him when he greeted them during their daily chores. He would observe them from a distance, patrol the perimeter out of sheer habit, and hunt the mice that tried to nest in the barn. Turtlepaw was still springy and quick, but he had gained quite a round belly from the supplemental pellets offered by the people. He balanced now on the fence with thoughts of his life before being captured and taken to the shelter bouncing around in his head.

The apprentice’s heart ached. He deeply missed the few friends he’d made and longed for the companionship of the apprentices’ den, although he was no longer a young little thing. He was a fully grown tomcat now, with poise and grace despite his bulky frame. He was not sure he would be wanted back in RiverClan. They probably suspected him of abandoning them. He wasn’t done training, either, and he probably smelled more like horses than like a cat, and really only Stormbringer had liked him or wanted him around in the first place, anyway. These were the things he told himself nightly. Every move he almost made to return was quickly countered by a voice in his head that told him that RiverClan didn’t want him back. Turtlepaw wasn’t brave enough, anyway. Even the sight of a distant patrol on the horizon made his heart beat wildly and his fur to rise, and he would duck away and hide in the barn it was irrational and he knew it. After all, they’d probably forgotten him already. They wouldn’t recognize him.

A twoleg’s call from the barn doors dragged him from his ruminating. Turtlepaw turned and jumped down from the fence to follow the sound and tuck himself into his soft nest of hay. There would be work to do the next day. It was time to banish the thoughts of RiverClan. And yet the feeling of cool water between his toes followed him in his dreams.