A slick, barbed tongue roughly caressed the edge of sticky paper. Before pink paws laid a stack of letters, addressed to many and with a drop another floated down onto the pile, gently landing on top. Careful claws finagled with the letters, perusing their edges. In satisfaction, a feline's head leaned down and a cherish smile appeared. Purring, they pulled the stack off the floor and into their paws, placing it gently elsewhere (in a purposefully, non-disclosed location).

Now hidden away, the pale figure pulled away from the location and into the cold... or at least what The Pitt considered the cold. For this recluse, the jungle's hot sun felt like a vacation. In fact, they had their sights set on elsewhere. He, by the name of Pyrrhus, wished for a relaxing day of his own. Maybe even outside of The Pitt, strangely enough. Would the neutral lands suffice? As lanky legs pulled out of the underbrush and into the desert, he couldn't help but contemplate the choice between staying within the hot desert or traveling to a new, unfamiliar place. After all, as his brain raced, he figured uncharted territory could be dangerous.

As the pale lynx reached the border, he came to a halt. Sheathed claws contemplated coming out, planting in place. Instead, they remained shut off to the world. Pyrrhus stood silent, eyes staring out at the horizon before him.

Should he stay or should he go?

"CALL ME MAVERICK"