( woof this got long. only the last 2-3 paragraphs are actually important, as the rest is background stuff ; also, if your character is able to see spirits, they'll be able to sense the presence of redvox within saint )

It had all happened so suddenly. It hardly seemed fair, that the entire course of one's life could all be changed by a single solitary event. However, that was what had happened to Saintkit. One moment, everything had been fine. The young ragdoll had been following after his mother and father, short legs scrambling over twigs as they moved quietly through the uncharted lands. They had always been nomadic, constantly moving from home to home in order to see all that they could see. It was a life that Saint enjoyed, even if it was a bit difficult to keep up, when he was still so small. However, today was not the day where his height would be his main concern. Because, as he and his parents moved along, they were suddenly halted by a massive shift. in the earth around them. The ground began to rumble, and there was a massive roar in the distance, making it clear that the earthquake had been made, rather than just coincidental. Saint had little idea of what lingered in the direction of the roar – he thought perhaps it was one of the larger groups his parents often talked about. The Typhoon, was it?

He wasn't given time to ponder what was going on, as he noticed the forest around them suddenly filling with life. The rapid shaking of the ground had driven the various prey animals all around into a frenzy, most of them desperately running to get away as fast as they could. That alone wouldn't have been an issue, but it became one when the stampede gained the larger animals of the forest, like the massive stags. Saintkit barely managed to let out a squeak of terror as hooves narrowly missed his head, crashing into a log behind him before it continued on. He watched as his father and mother exchanged a look, one that he knew only meant bad things. It was worse than usual this time, though. They weren't looking at each other because they hadn't managed to find his favorite prey. Instead, they were looking at each other because they knew what needed to be done.

The child wasn't given a chance to argue, with his father picking him up by the scruff and lightly tossing him in the opposite direction of the source of the quakes. His father had a terrified look in his eyes that caught Saint off guard, the boy nearly missing as his father pleaded, "Saintkit, go! You can't stay here, you'll get trampled! Go, now! Your mother and I will be okay! We'll find you! But you need to LEAVE!" His father's voice was so desperate that Saint had no choice but to nod, feeling wetness gathering in his lavender gaze. He turned and bolted after that, small wings opening and helping to throw him forward as he raced towards a destination even he didn't know, tears eventually falling freely. In the distance, the chaos slowly began to grow more and more quiet, although he could've sworn he heard a scream that sounded eerily like his own mother's voice. He yearned to go back, and to make sure that she was okay, but he knew that wasn't an option. He had promised his father that he would go, and he had no intention of breaking that promise.

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It had been days since he had been separated from his parents, and while he hadn't been keeping track, he had to think it had been more than a week. Although his tears had long since dried up, there was still a heavy weight in the boy's chest with every step he took. Deep down inside, he knew that his parents weren't going to find him. He knew that his mother had probably been trampled in the chaos, and that his father had probably fallen to it as well. Despite this, he continued onward, knowing that couldn't stop him from moving on. His parents wouldn't want him to just lay down and die, no matter what. So, he kept going, even as his paws and wings began to ache, and he began to grow thirsty, and hungry. His only occasional stops were for sleeping and drinking, although water was getting more scarce as the trees grew less dense around him. Saint had little idea of where he was going – he hadn't exactly been given directions, after all – but he figured eventually he would stumble upon some sort of group.

And indeed, that was eventually what happened. As the young ragdoll continued onwards, he noticed the trees becoming more and more distanced from each other, and soon enough his paws were sinking into scorching sand, rather than against soft earth. He was forced to speed up slightly, even as his legs and feet ached in protest. He couldn't afford to stay still for long, not wanting his paws or his back to roast beneath the sun. He didn't know where he was going, but he was grateful for the temporary respite that the infrequent trees represented, hiding beneath their shade so that he could take a breath. Part of him wanted to just turn and get out of the horribly searing desert, but he knew that he couldn't. After all, he could smell the scent of many other animals on the air, which meant that there was more than likely a group nearby. That was enough to keep him going, the feline desperate for anything that he could call home after what he had already endured.

Eventually, Saintkit persevered. Even through all of the agony that came through traveling across the desert, the boy was eventually able to reach the jungle. As soon as he saw the lush trees in the distance, he sped up, nearly falling over himself as he reached out for the divine looking shade. Once he was within the comforting grip of the trees, he pressed himself up against one of their trunks, gasping softly as he fell back onto his flank. His small and fluffy body was heaving, weakened by days upon days of travel, with little to eat except for left over scraps from other animals. He was barely able to raise his voice enough to call out, a bit of desperation in his voice, "Hello? Is anyone there? I'm looking for somewhere to stay! Please... please someone be here. Tell me I didn't come all this way for nothing..." As he waited for a response, Saint closed his eyes, slumping against the tree and simply allowing himself a moment to rest.

AINE NÍ BROIN
FLESHWEAVER
FAE DRUID
INFORMATION

Unlike Aine, Saintkit didn't have an immediate strike of understanding or memory upon seeing her approach. However, he did feel something. A faint sense of familiarity. A tingle in the back of his head, like he was supposed to be remembering something, but wasn't. Her name was nearly on the tip of his tongue, even before she went and introduced herself. Unfortunately, the young feline wasn't given much time to think or process what that feeling could be. He was still so exhausted, and hungry, and he didn't like how upset this lady seemed to be. Was it because of the state that he was in? If that was the case, then it gave him just another motivator to get up to his feet.

Saint pushed himself up onto his paws, wobbling slightly as he tried to hold his head up high. He was barely steady, but he thought maybe he could make it to wherever Aine was taking him. His words were hoarse as he managed to speak, taking a few tentative steps forward, "I... I can stand, I think. Food and water sounds good. I don't know what The Pitt is, but I'm... I-I'm Saintkit." His words stuttered slightly as he took another step forward, barely managing to not fall flat on his face. As he grit his teeth, the boy hoped that Aine hadn't simply been lying for his sake. If their main camp was too much farther away, he wasn't sure he'd be able to make it without passing out.

The presence of yet another Pittian caused Saintkit to shrink back slightly, although it wasn't really intentional. Rather, it was an instinct, based off of him just trying to keep himself alive. Despite this, he managed to relax after another moment, surprised to feel that same strange feeling of familiarity when he looked at Gael, just as he had felt when he saw Aine. Yet still, he wasn't sure why he felt like he knew them. After all, he hadn't truly met anyone besides his parents in his relatively short life, so why would he know these two Pittians? For now, the creamsicle colored child wasn't given much time to ponder it, considering his body was still aching and weak, and he still yearned for some kind of food, and protection. Perhaps if he was a little bit older, he would've refused Gael's offer to be carried, far too worried about some false sense of pride to even consider it. However, seeing as young Saint was only three months old, and still used to being carried, he didn't hesitate in nodding his head.

Taking another step forward so that he would be within Gael's reach, Saint hesitated briefly before he questioned, curious, "Would... would people here really not mind if I have food and water? I know some of the groups don't like outsiders..." Those were the groups that his parents had constantly told him to avoid, but their names all sort of jumbled in his head, essentially lost to time. It was hard to keep track of them all, when he was told about them while stumbling after his mother and father's long strides.