The young acolyte had rarely fended for himself. Cowardess ruled his world, whether the faux confidant denied it or not. He let Ivan attack. His mother's death got to him. His family practically  disowned him. To him, he did not work enough. Atticus feared failure, yet didn't strive to fight for his needs. The world around him was crashing down and the former golden child didn't know where to start... but all he needed to do was... well.. start. With what though?

Physically exhausted, the grey tabby picked himself off the jungle floor with a heavy sigh. Hunger pangs rumbled through his stomach. While he thought of ignoring their initial cries, the boy let out a groan and began to explore. Tired eyes breached the underbrush. Yellow orbs spotted a soft grey mammal in the distance, cowering in a pool of it's own blood. The rabbit laid on it's side, heavily breathing. Their suffering, while convenient for him, reminded him of his own struggle.

Upon growing closer, Atticus felt dismay. His heart told him to leave the rabbit be, but his internal thoughts told him to end it quick. As always, impulse controlled him.

SNAP!

A golden gaze stared at his... what could he call it? Mercy? Madness? Atticus frowned. Once again, he was consumed by his thoughts.