Tiny, bloodied paws pressed themselves more firmly to even an bloodier wound. Chests heaved in irregular, heavy patterns, a tempo mimicked by the accelerated heartbeats of both creatures. Tears formed in the kit's eyes as he compressed his paws even further onto the wounds of the larger feline below him. His efforts proved futile; the kitten was too small, too weak, and the cat's wounds were too large for the tyke to be able to do anything of substance that would allow him to save the cat's life. The feline's crimson remains of life continued to spill onto the ground in a viscous scarlet waterfall.

    "Please, please, no!" came the kitten's high pitched yowl. "Y-you—Dad, please! You can't go!" he shouted, the tears rolling from his blue oculars. The kitten's father, dying rapidly, could only smile at his three-month old son and weakly attempt to push him away with a paw. The sorrow in the older male's own eyes was readily apparent to any onlookers. The kit was too busy trying to stop the bleeding to notice.

    A faint laugh, followed closely by his father's voice. "Stop, Alaric," spoke the young tabby's father. With renewed force, he pushed his only son away from his wounds. "There's nothing you can do for me." A young Alaric opened his mouth to protest, but his father spoke before he could produce a single utterance. "Come here—I want to see your face." The tabby reluctantly neglected his father's wounds in favor of moving to face him.

    Upon seeing his son's despair, the larger tabby spoke again. "Do not cry for me, son." These words merely angered Alaric.

    "But you-you're dying! How am I supposed to stop?!" retaliated Alaric, instantly regretting it. His father was, in fact, dying, and he'd spent a few of those precious last seconds yelling at his father. He sniffled weakly. Furthermore, this situation was his fault; if he hadn't decided that today was a great day to explore, his father wouldn't have had to hunt him down and get attacked by a feral dog just as soon as they found each other. Thankfully, his dad had been able to fight the hound off, but not without sustaining an injury that would undoubtedly become his demise.

    His father's smile only grew larger in response, a kind of half-hearted grin that pinned itself to the corners of his mouth. "Alaric, you have to be strong for me. Please. I want you to go home and tell your mother what happened." Alaric nodded in response, sniffling again. It was a miracle that his father could talk so assuredly when he was rapidly bleeding out. "She will be sad, but you have to be strong for her, okay? Promise me that." Alaric's tiny head bobbed in response, although the action was clearly pained.

    The feline's situation suddenly drew more dire. Somehow, he could feel that his time was near; he was going to die soon. "I'm gonna go soon. I love you, Alaric—more than you know. Go ahead and go home." Alaric nodded once more. With great sadness he shuffled over to his father and nuzzled him one last time before turning to go.

    Alaric went home, not once daring to look backwards.

    That was the last time he felt anything.


    The tabby woke with a start. Another nightmare, and once more about his father's death. It was as if his sleeping mind was a broken record, stopping and starting time and time again. Nevertheless, he rose from his bed, exhausted even after a full night's sleep. Once more unto the breach, he supposed.

    For the sake of maintaining his own brevity, he decided to immediately exit his home, hoping that doing so would pull his thoughts away from that particular time in his life. Between his jaws was a basket of sorts, one that he had delicately woven for himself. To him, it was a lovely piece of of his own handiwork; to anyone else, it was a crude construction with an appearance that suggested that it was thrown-together in a matter of minutes.

    Upon leaving his home, he took note of the sun's position in the sky. He had not gotten a full night of sleep as he had thought. He guessed, judging by where the sun was, that it was very early in the morning, probably around 6 A.M. Fuck it, thought the tabby, heading for the marsh with his basket situated firmly in his jaw.

    He trekked through the swamp for a while, eventually coming upon a thicket of herbs. It was not his job to be gathering herbs in any capacity, as he was not officially a healer, but he was thoroughly fascinated with medicine anyway, especially given the number of medical journals and such that lied about his home, including a book about herbs and where to find them.

    Setting his basket down, he began to gather the herbs from the bush; tearing leaves here, plucking berries there, and placing each in the basket by his side. His actions conveyed a certain sadness, though—one he had not allowed himself to feel in a very long time, and, simultaneously, one that he was unaware that he was feeling.

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    Gathering herbs quickly became a mundane task for the tabby. As he plucked berries and pulled leaves here and there, his thoughts continually drifted back to the memory of that day. Each time, he forced himself to focus back on the task at hand, but his attention span worsened rapidly, to the point where he could not remove the memory from the forefront of his mind. With one final effort, he pushed the thoughts away as best he could and moved onto a different assortment of herbs growing not far from the bush he had been foraging from.

    The pregnant tigon's words caused Alaric to jump, snapping him completely out of his daze. He must have been downwind, as his normally strong sense of smell had not picked up even a whiff of the angel as he approached. The tabby did not remove his attention from his undertaking as Aurum spoke, preferring instead to work while he spoke. Aurum's lack of subtlety did not go unmissed, but Alaric appreciated the proxy's to-the-point speech. Not having to navigate around social cues certainly made his life easier.

    "'Morning," was his curt response to Aurum's greeting. It was the second part of the proxy's speech that struck a nerve in the tabby—"Are you feeling alright?" Until this point, Alaric had not noticed how his actions were demonstrating plainly the way he felt. Almost immediately, he transitioned back into a normal persona; his actions no longer conveyed the same heaviness that they did before. The transition was almost jarring, really.

    He considered the tigon's words for a moment. There was no one else around, so he could tell the truth, but Alaric did not exactly trust the angel quite yet. "Yes, I'm alright. Thank you," he lied. It would have been an impressive lie, too, and quite convincing if Aurum had not already crept up on him and been witness to how he had been acting mere moments earlier.

    The next to join the conversation happened to be Caustic, whose normally bad scent was marred with the metallic smell of blood. He issued a glance over his shoulder, noting the dead raccoon over his feet. Alaric wondered what it meant for a bit before coming to the conclusion that he did not care and even if he did it was none of his business. The wolf asked of the two what they were doing out so early, and Alaric, despite his foul mood, could not miss the opportunity for a sarcastic remark.

    "I'm skinning a deer, Dr. Caustic. Obviously." Hopefully the wolf would be able to sense the humor in his sarcasm. Some found it offensive, for whatever reason.

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    Ah, so Tanglers had senses of humor! Huzzah! Alaric's sense of humor happened to be particularly dry, so he mostly relied on facetious quips to get across a joke. It made him more lively, he supposed, although he couldn't exactly say that he cared whether or not people found him to be a pleasant figure. That was not what he was in Tanglewood to do. Not that he had anything to do, really; his reasons for joining were purely based on wanting to live with anyone but his own mind, although he had told himself and continues to tell himself otherwise.

    The tabby would nod upon hearing Aurum's voiced approval. Alaric could not see the look of frustration that Aurum had adopted in that moment, and perhaps it was best that he had not seen it. "Of course. You don't have to worry about me." His statement, though spoken normally, came off as both a command and a warning, as if in telling the proxy not to concern himself with Alaric's affairs he was trying to make the tigon mind his own business.

    Caustic's speech came next. Alaric snorted quietly upon hearing the wolf correct Aurum's dropping of Caustic's title. It was almost like Aurum had little to no respect or trust in Caustic, which was plain for all to see in Alaric's opinion. It was amusing, really, to hear them attempt to converse formally with one another with the incredibly obvious tension that persisted between the two. The tabby cracked a sort of smirk while they spoke to one another, but Alaric himself ended up tensing instinctively as Caustic approached. Alaric despised having other beings in his personal space; coincidentally, one of the few things he detested more was being touched. Alaric opened his mouth to not-so-politely ask him to kindly step away, but before he could Caustic was already producing speech of his own.

    How many of these can I name? thought the tabby, fighting the urge to issue an envenomed glance towards the doctor. He found the question itself to be mildly infuriating. Why would he be picking the herbs unless he knew what they were? After taking a second to compose himself, the tabby responded. "All of them," he began, "Otherwise I would not be collecting them."

    The next to join the congregation was the same kit that had stopped him at the border. He allowed himself to laugh at the child's snide comment about Aurum's cubs, finding its bluntness to be highly amusing. The child, whose name he still was unaware of, next commented on the fact that Alaric had been gathering herbs. It came to him then that the tyke must be the spawn of Moth and Selby, Tanglewood's resident healers. Alaric shot a glance over his shoulder at the large-eared black kitten. "That is precisely why I did not ask. They're healers; they need their plants and herbs much more than I need them. I'm content with finding my own."

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