[Neptune.]

Hollowpaw
~<>~
121/200
7 moons || he/him || ThC medicine cat apprentice || Silk Spinner, Dream Walker, HkT1
brown, masked classic tabby w/ low white; titanite eyes

It feels odd to be back in camp after so long away. Hollowpaw wonders, fleetingly, if this is how idiot losers who get themselves temporarily exiled or find themselves somehow lost feel upon returning home. The difference here being that they had not been sick, had not been through hell of cats dying and having no way to stop them dying. In contrast, Hollowpaw had.

He still feels dizzy if he moves around too much, and his chest heaves from the effort of walking too far and for two long. But he's getting better. That stupid flower (coneflower, he remembers it's called) seemed to really be the cure. So he and the other infected had eaten it and were now... home. Sort of.

The brown tabby tom finds his way through the crowd of milling cats and searching for one in particular. Not the cat he wishes it was, but a cat he supposes he should force himself to seek out all the same. Wolfhawk. Part of Hollowpaw resents the older medic for not getting sick, for staying here, healthy, while he went off to the sick camp to watch everyone around him wither away and die. It's unfair. Still, that's not exactly Wolfhawk's fault, so Hollowpaw pushes it aside and takes a seat, but he doesn't say anything, simply acknowledges him with a flick of his ear.

[ @Beaan - wolfsies ]