[duskfire1]

>> Ryepaw <<

He snorted, pushing through the camp walls with annoyance as his ruffled pelt struggled past it. He had been flaunting around, in who knows where, and he could hardly remember any of it. He looked down at his leg, which had a long scar drawn across it. He couldn't remember how he got it. His mind flickered back to the day he was exiled, bits and pieces began to put that evening together once the thought was summoned. His exile was in motion, he was asked to leave, or, ordered, to leave, and he left, no hesitation. He could remember that bit. But once outside the camp, he was clueless as to what had happened afterwards. He shook his pelt, and didn't feel the normal shake of his belly, which often shook with his pelt, so he assumed he was skinny. He was a strange cat, and he himself knew it. He didn't even understand himself, which actually made no sense to him. Nothing really made sense, it didn't even click in his head, he just did what he did, acted how he thought he should, and he's alive, so his "strategy" is working. Nothing to worry about if he's doing okay now.

He padded forward with uncertainty and drowsiness, smiling slightly at the dizzy world before him. It welcomed him, just like the hunger birds. The birds who attacked him, but it didn't hurt. Not at all. They helped him, they were trying to rid the world of him, and give him peace. Or, was that all a dream? Is he dreaming right now? Normally the voices in his head would tell him all about it, that what he was thinking was crazy, but he didn't know where they were. Weird, even the voices in his head left him. Was he really that much of an unstable cat?

He looked up, sighting Elmshadow punishing more cats. He sat down, and began to groom his filthy pelt, the sleek red, now a singed brown, fell to a cleaner color with every stroke. He looked like he had sat in a large dung pile for a certain number of days. He probably smelled like it too. He tasted many foul things on his tongue, unable to place a claw on any of them. He kept licking, the yucky tastes thriving on his taste buds, until he was finished. He examined his body, lifting a back paw to scratch his ear for a good bit. Did he have fleas? Wait, what were fleas? He sat, eyes closed for a bit, letting his memory and smarts come back to him.

Opening his eyes, he curled his tail around his paws, patiently waiting for Elmshadow to assess him. He flicked an ear in attempt to sustain the nagging itch.

[ @Ravensong ]
(I haven't posted with Rainysky in the outskirts, may I let him rejoin later? I took a break, didn't expect it to be so long...)