Inhale, exhale. Again. Repeat. Frozenberry had chosen a specific blade of singed grass to stare at, let Falcon deal with... whatever was happening -- intruders, two of them, one too nice. Too Nice. Scary nice. No, focus. Blade of grass. Inhale. Exhale.

His mind was a mess. HE was a mess. everything was the worst. his chest still ached with the pain of fading panic, paws on fire and stomach in knots. The brink of collapse awaited, tempting him, reassuring him with chilling sentiments like Falcon is here and can take care of you, make sure you're safe. And... and in a very pressing way, he was the last cat in this forest that Frozenberry wanted to be in the company of because he did this, he was the reason for the brokenness. Why nothing would be okay again, why he couldn't function. (so why was he relieved that he was here??) In a twisted, irreconcilable way, Falcon was both the worst and best cat to have at his side right now.

Were they gone yet?

It was the question on his tongue, but weakness prevented him from actually raising it as he peered around. Already, he felt close to death. Didn't need a serial killer vibe cat helping him into the grave. Thankfully, he didn't see the stranger -- just an on-guard Falcon in a protective stance, and that...

It calmed him. Took the edge off anxiety, because his body intrinsically knew that sight as safety. (the effect falcon had on him elicited a wide range of reactions. the hold he had on him, however. . .) Frozenberry didn't respond immediately, his eyes closing in exhaustion. Cleaning himself up? Didn't want to bother. He knew Falcon was prompting him in a strangely-logical way (clinical, really) but could be content just spending the next moon in his crumpled paper towel state. "Am I?" It came out with the tiredness he felt in his soul. He wasn't attempting to be petulant, but instead voice concern -- it Falcon took the time to assist him, it'd ultimately be for naught when he fell apart again. When that'd happen, he didn't know. A minute, a moon, it was anyone's guess. For once, he felt he properly looked like the grossness that he felt. Fitting, in the sense that nobody could feel betrayed when they found out what he really was. What they saw was what they got.

With that in mind, it was somewhat comforting weirdly that Falcon nevertheless wished to help him. Bucking up enough to get to his paws, he stood on shaky twig legs and heaved out a defeated sigh. gentle and small, he murmured, "where to. . .?" he hoped falcon knew where to go. he couldn't... he didn't have the capacity for that kind of executive planning.

And then -- he was pretty sure he was hallucinating. Because there was a she-cat in his line of vision, and . . what. What even. His head throbbed. There was no way. Did WindClan just have a constant revolving door of random outsiders feeling like Falcondive was The Cat to approach? The guy was built like a boulder and didn't strike the friendliest impression. Hallucinating. It had to be that. It was just. . . he hadn't hallucinated anything in so long--

dehydration? some water and cleanup would be good for him. "Not real. You aren't real." The firmness in his tone was especially hostile, absolutely at the end of his patience (with himself- but that extended to his figment of his imagination.) This was not the time for his body to be playing tricks on him. To Falcon, he beckoned him to continue, to lead the way. "Let's just go."

Falcon’s mention of the tree eased his mind as he’d been imagining a post-panic walk of shame into camp where he’d have to face possible persecutors (exaggeration, but the prying eyes– he couldn’t stand the stares) and judgmental looks because really? A fully-fledged warrior couldn’t stand the mundane sight of trauma? Pathetic. Frozenpaw, that was what would happen. They’d demote him, with no reason not to. Frozenpawthetic, still ghosting about and adding nothing to the well-being of the Clan.

Frozenberry bit his tongue. failure – the thoughts were intrusive and nonstop in the wake of perceived weakness. Each word like pulling teeth, he ground out, "It … was seeing Twilightstar like that.” Falcon hadn’t asked, had made no indication of even being interested, but he felt compelled to share. A token of gratitude and meeting him halfway when he’d reacted with near-violence, and Falcon had nonetheless protected him from the clown car line of strangers (speaking of, he figured another would’ve approached by now, but apparently the hallucinations had other plans.)

The walk was slow, marked by the occasional stop as he regained his breath. He’d wished he possessed the articulation to better detail why Twilight’s wounds were upsetting, but that would reopen his own–and yet, the temptation persisted if only to attempt jogging Falcon’s memory. (it’d be no use, he knew it’d be another dead end.) By the time they reached the tiny stream, Frozenberry could’ve burst into tears. Exertion, emotion, thankfulness, overwhelming everything. Basic functioning alone was too much.

Water. That was the task at hand. And already, Falcon was splashing it onto him, making decent headway without his assistance while Frozenberry had been busy staring into the distance. He mumbled out an apology before beginning to do the same, wading forward to merge with the relaxed current. Taking his time. Gradually allowing the creek to sink beneath his fur’s layers, then shifting in position to reach new places across his body.

Finishing up, Frozenberry hesitated on shaking his pelt and instead let the droplets slide off naturally.

"I can go to the tree,” he said in offering, "if you want to return to the Clan. It sounded like an important meeting.” It was strange enough that Falcon had departed being a born and raised Clan cat (even if Frozenberry didn’t know how cognizant of that he was) and stranger still that he seemed to be in no hurry to resume listening.