running is something i've always done so well [c]

Today had been particularly bad. Woke up with aches and cramps everywhere and anywhere, and he thought he could muscle through it. He really did try, tried going on a hunting patrol not too long ago and just ended up right back here, wheezing for breath that stabbed him every time and every pang of agony left him gritting his teeth. There was only so much Hemlockfox could do for him, really. A bit of poppy seed and then time.

No matter how painful it was, though, he didn't regret it. And he'd say it to any cat he passed or whoever questioned him. Like he said to Thistledown, he'd do it again and again until all that was left of him a memory. It was a good way to die, he had always thought. A nice, noble way. And he'd serve a purpose. But he was alive right now, and even though it was hard and painful to be alive, he still had reasons to be.

One of those reasons was sitting right outside the medicine den when he stumbled out, barely able to walk in a straight line with his limp, looking somber and sad. Same way he had looked at him when he left them with his family, right into the belly of the beast. He stopped, his tail slowly lowering down to the floor rather than in line with his back. His one good ear twitched, and then flattened itself to the sand-coloured  fur on the top of his head. It wasn't matted by blood anymore. He got it out.

"Heya," He started, though it felt wrong and flat. His voice was hoarse. Seemed to be all the time, now. Maybe it was another one of those things that'd get better with time. "You wanna go somewhere quiet? Looks... Looks like ye' could use a good cry." Me too.