Post by » Sacrifice on Jul 30, 2009 22:45:25 GMT -5
While his brother was out and about, smelling faintly of herbs to the deep grey tom, there was always one that was behind, not exactly acting as though a usual cat would. He was as healthy as an kit was, as healthy as his brother, but maybe his markings were more correct then one thought to be. With what appeared to be shackles around his neck and legs, the key was within reach, on his throat, but always so far away. At it seemed to affect the tom. With a haunted look always in his face, as though he had seen more then he should have seen, he was uninteresting. Never included on anything, and generally just laying around camp, not always in the sunlight, just watching the world with his light brown eyes, the left orb, toward the pupil, flecked with a single green spark. Those eyes hid an intellegence, without a doubt, for there was something knowing in those eyes. It was as though he was bound to camp though, for although he moved around, it had never been beyond the gate. He had been named correctly; Shackledkit. At the moment, as all good kits should be, he was in camp. But not by choice, it was almost as if he was being held there.
And thus, because of his little issue, he was alone. He had no other actual friends, as he kept to himself unless spoken too. In truth, he was a touch timid about being around anyone. It wasn't that he was actually afraid of being around anyone, no, it was rather, he was afraid of letting them down. And if he did not hang around anyone, then he couldn't hurt anyone, and then they would be just fine. As for himself? He could fend for himself, with or without his siblings. Well, at least, Strikekit, who had been spending a lot of time outside of camp. There was no clue to who he was hanging around out there with, only the fact that it wasn't a rogue. Eyes watching, although his body was still, in a sitting position, Shackledkit watched as cats he knew by their names leave the camp, and return as well. He knew every bit of prey that they carried in, and how fresh it was, even from a distance. He knew which cat was the Medicine cat in training, the leader, the deputy, even without having to look at them.
The dark grey tom could tell which warrior, or apprentice, was prideful of themselves, those who lacked self confidence, and those who were just trying to make it through the day. From just a simple look, he could see the cures for various, somewhat simple problems, although he couldn't cure his own it seemed. There were none, of course, that knew of his gatherings, but none really expected much of the tom. All he did was lay around, or sit in the shadows, and watch everything. He didn't try to venture outside, so what good was he? He wouldn't have the guts of a warrior, they all thought. Maybe he wouldn't have the same reckless streak as most, but with every passing day, he saw more weaknesses then before, and more strengths as well. Talk as they might, and avoid him as they would, but there were things that, although they tried as hard as they could, weren't able to hide in the end. Things that he could see because of what he was doing, things that only the most seasoned warriors could see.
But what did he long for? Acting as though he was just fine was what it was, an act. Each being had their own wants, their own thoughts. While it was great to be able and see what he saw, to know what he knew, it was impossible to be actually happy, when he felt excluded from life, and was without anyone to call a friend. He really didn't have any siblings to hang around with, Drivekit and Strikekit were always doing something, and his mom didn't count. The clan was suppose to be a family; but for Shackledkit, that was exactly what he didn't want it to be. He wanted it to be a place where he could find friends, others whom were the ones to counter out his faults, as he countered out theirs.
But in the clan, everyone was family. There couldn't be any friends for the odd kit. Not unless, someone wanted to make a try, to bring him out of the darkness of being alone, even if it was by choice. But who? Hopefully someone who would understand him, if that was even possible...
{Open.}
