Raccoon |♂|

His first days in Patria were confusing.The first night he arrived, he had been given to a maternal she-cat. She was white, which seemed to remind him of his father since they both had similar coats. Snowdrop was given the task of raising him, and she took it up in a heartbeat. Not only that, but everywhere he looked, he only saw females. The ratio of males to females at his home had been almost even, so it wasn't something he had been expecting at all. The cottage, however, had a similar layout to the house he'd shared with his family and their owners, so it was an area he was mostly used to and could learn his way around. His first friend there was his new mother's older son, Fir, who had immediately taken him in to be his younger brother. The next cat he met was only a couple moons older than him, but she still seemed absolutely delighted to let him follow her around. Her name was Jackal, and while she didn't look anything like his siblings, he liked to consider her as such. She resembled Fir close enough anyway.

The first months he spent at Patria were calm. He came to find they were all an extraordinary group, making the lack of a large number of males work well. He'd started to warm up to all of them, and it was pretty easy for him since his old home had been the house of many. However, he was soon introduced by his mother to another tom that had been born into the clan. Now he wasn't so lonely! Fir was normally out practicing his skills, so Raccoon was often left alone to himself. Milkweed was just about his age, only one month older but a friend nonetheless. They hit it off almost immediately, spending a lot of time together and with Jackal since they were all within the same age range. Anywhere one of them went, the other two would follow. However, something very new and interesting occurred when Raccoon was only 7 months old. Not only did his mother have two new sons, Vine and Clover, and an adoptive daughter named Sky, word had spread through the cottage to the top floor about a mottled tom that had been brought in. Raccoon was instantaneously intrigued by this new information, but Snowdrop told him not to bother the newcomer yet. Reluctantly, he agreed and waited, letting the physician do her work and spending time with his new brothers and sister. They were a rowdy bunch, but he found it to be absolutely adorable. Sky was a bit older than Vine and Clover by about two months, but there was something about her that made her think and act older than she really was. Raccoon always found it interesting and surprising when he'd find himself going to the three month-old to talk. 

What he hadn't expected was having to wait an entire month to meet him. Of course, Jackal immediately saw him since she was the physician, and Milk had been a part of the patrol to find him. This left Raccoon out on his own again with Fir, whom he spent a lot of time with during the anxious month. He'd ask at least once every day if he could come in, but Milkweed and Jackal always politely and apologetically turned him away with the promise that he'd be able to see him soon enough. There were some nights where he even ended up sleeping outside the doorway. Fir often tripped clumsily over him at the crack of dawn, and at first he would chuckle softly at him and drag him with him on his patrol with a nagging thought in the back of his mind worried that his little brother wasn't taking care of himself. He'd ask him questions, strike up conversations, and even reassure Raccoon that they would get to see the tom soon enough. Finally, Jackal came up to him on the last day of his wait and told him he could see him tomorrow. He was the first one awake the next morning, aside from those in the physician's room. That included the tom-cat he desperately wanted to see.

He was not at all expecting the silence he got from this cat. He even had scars! Who has scars at the age of 11 months? A bad-ass, that's who! He was practically jumping out of his fur when he entered the room, and he peaked out around the corner to see the tom sitting up with Milkweed. Right, the two were adoptive brothers now. Like him and Fir! What made him apprehensive, however, was the look the lilac tom flashed him the moment he saw the fluffy tom approaching. After looking the other over, who was bigger than him, he realized why. The expression he wore was solicit and silent, almost cold, which brought his own lips to clamp shut. The second the other's green, mossy gaze bore into his hazel one, his heart froze. His eager attitude had completely washed away, and he simply let Jackal, who'd come over as soon as Raccoon entered, do the talking as he continued to study him. When he caught his name in the slight conversation - which was mostly Milkweed doing the talking for him along with Jackal - his ears perked with interest. Moss. He liked Moss. It suited him with his mottled fur. Very Moss-esque. How does something resemble moss, though? It doesn't, Raccoon. Stop thinking and smile. He left after the brief introduction, Jackal having introduced him first since Raccoon had uncharacteristically been too anxious to speak much at all after the cold look he'd received. Moss was okay with Jackal of course, since she'd spent so much time with him over the past month. It caused a slight spark of envy in his chest. 

The more he saw Moss, the more Moss hated him. At least, that's what he thought was happening. It bothered Raccoon tremendously. Okay, maybe he was a bit overbearing. After he'd pushed his initial anxiety away, he'd begun to slowly talk to him like he talked with everyone else. He did, however, force himself to dial down on the rambling a good bit, as it probably wasn't wanted. The other's responses were short, and sometimes he'd end up walking off to be by himself. His goal was always to try to cheer the tom up, but it didn't work. 

It only started to work after several moons of them knowing each other. Slowly but surely, Moss talked more and stopped leaving. He'd walk with Raccoon and Jackal, sometimes giving input and sometimes not. But Raccoon welcomed the reaction all the same. In fact, Raccoon seemed a little too overjoyed that Moss was responding to him. He'd brought the feeling up to Jackal several times, and she'd simply smile at him and keep quiet. Why wouldn't she tell him anything? Was it weird? He found it getting worse the more time he spent with the tom. His little glances towards him with those mossy eyes and how his lips would quirk into a smile at Raccoon's antics. He was 14 months, so they'd known each other for about five months. Five months wasn't a lot, but hell apparently it was enough time for Raccoon to develop feelings for him. That information was courtesy of Jackal, who'd finally told him what exactly he was feeling. 

He didn't act quite the same around him after that. Any patrols they went on, his paws always tingled and went numb, especially when he would laugh at Raccoon's comments. That was the killer. It made his heart seize horribly. How terrible. Of course, their colony's festival of love was nearing, and when it arrived he felt nauseous. He didn't really spend it alone, their little group consisting of Milkweed, Moss, Jackal, and him. Sky, Vine, and Clover had to stay back at the cottage. It was comforting at least. However, he found himself pacing on his own at the back of the shore and a short ways into the forest, simply watching them laugh or converse. He was vaguely calm, until he heard rustling behind him. It had the fur on the back of his nape bristling with slight fear, and when he turned around, he was not expecting the sight he received. It was a she-cat taller than him, long, gray and white flecked fur covering her slim frame. At first, his muscles twitched as if he were preparing to evade her, but at the sight of her strangely calm and.. familial gaze, he relaxed. She spoke to him in a soothing tone, explaining just exactly what she was doing there and why. It had his eyes widening significantly. Her name was Maria, and she was his sister. Not adoptive, but biological. He hadn't seen his biological siblings since he was merely a kit. And she didn't call him by Raccoon either. Ryan. His old name, one that he'd soon forgotten after being called Raccoon his entire life. 

After several long minutes of talking, Maria had told him to meet her in five sunrises at the rapids, so that was exactly what he did. He'd gone back to his little group quietly, slipping into the conversation as if he'd never left and met a sister he'd forgotten. His solitary walk to the rapids was deafening. Not because of the birds, but because of his heart that was pounding in his chest. Where would he start? How is everyone? Why was I dropped by myself? Where have you all been? Strangely enough, when he asked, his sister refused to tell him, stating that they wanted him to have his own life and not worry about his old one. It baffled him, but she seemed to adamant on not telling him. So he didn't ask again, only asked what they all looked like. He could barely remember them. Luckily, she was willing to tell him that much. The amount of siblings he had astounded him. They all sounded like an amazing bunch, one that he was supposed to be a part of. Maria insisted for him to not return, and he fearfully agreed. He didn't want to suffer her wrath. Besides, he had a family and friends in Patria that he cared about too much to leave.

He met with his older sister weekly to share stories of their childhoods. He told her about Sunset, Snowdrop, Clover, Vine, Sky, Milk, Jackal, and Moss. He definitely talked about them all a lot, and he was beginning to worry she might be jealous. Of course, she denied it, reassuring him that she enjoyed to hear about them. She even told him about a lot of her friends too, friends that he would've had if he'd stayed. But he hadn't, and that was okay.

The next couple months were confusing to him. He'd show up, waiting for her, but after at least an hour of waiting, she never showed. This worried him tremendously, but he tried not to think much of it. He still met at their spot on the days they would normally meet, even if she didn't show up, just in case she did again. It depressed him, really. Had he driven her off? What had he done wrong? It wasn't until two months had passed that she finally showed back up, and she was very pregnant. He was baffled at first, completely punched in the gut with surprise. She was..? When she'd explained to him that she was due anytime now, she told him that she'd return in two months. With the kittens. This had him spiking up with curiosity and excitement, to which she laughed and waved him off back home. She told him she'd keep her promise. Two months. Two months. 

He'd busied himself with his friends during his wait, which wasn't difficult at all. He helped Jackal with collecting on patrols, helped Fir with whatever he needed, helped Milkweed with his fur, and he helped Moss by talking to him. The other didn't seem to mind the chattering, so he did. He helped with whatever training Vine, Clover, and Sky were still going through, and often ended up going on patrols or outings with them. It was nice, peaceful. Then, the two months were up, and he was up earlier than usual to go meet her like always. The walk there was slow, but he was prickling with eagerness to see them. He was about to meet biological nieces and nephews, hopefully ones that he'd get to see often and watch grow up. But the sight he was met with when he popped over the hill was one that would haunt him forever. There, at the rapids like planned, were his sister and her kittens. But they were not at all the way he expected to find them. They were all dead. Blood soaked into his pads as he slowly stepped down closer, careful not to step on their bodies as his wide eyes fixated on the horrific slaughter of his biological family. It was fresh. This had just happened. Someone was still here. He whipped his head around at that, his chest constricting with his asthma as he looked at the shrubbery  behind him. He spun in a full circle, positive he'd heard someone bolt off but not quite sure. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't do anything except cry. He didn't want to leave them, but he knew he had to. He had to get help. 

Jackal was the first one to see him, bloody fur, tears, and all. She was horrified, a flurry of questions passing through her lips as she pulled him off to the side of the cottage on the porch. After he'd sputtered out in a babbled mess what exactly happened, she snapped for a patrol to be sent out to clean up the mess, probably bury them. She was trying to use moss soaked with water to clean him off, but it wasn't working too well. His white, pristine fur was stained, just how he felt. His eyes were obviously troubled as they flickered around wildly, the physician refusing to leave him alone and forcing him to breathe with her in an attempt to guide him away from the mental cliff he was about to dive head first over. He vaguely recognized Milk and Fir speeding over to them, their questions reaching his ears but not making any sense. Nothing made sense. Everything was wrong. Something horrible was happening. What if whoever murdered them followed him back to camp? That derailed his practiced breathed, descending it into hyperventilating as he staggered backwards and pressed back against the fence that kept him from tumbling off the porch. Later, when he'd calmed down and his fur was only slightly pink, he decided that no one had followed him back. But he had a horrible feeling that it was only just getting started. The rapids never felt the same after that. 

With the trauma came a habit. A bad habit that he formed whenever he was stressed or anxious. He started to pluck his whiskers out. Now, he knew whiskers were most certainly not meant to be plucked out, but he didn't seem to care. It was a fair punishment to him. He shouldn't be alive. He should've been the one to be murdered, not his sister. Not her kits. The image consumed his nightmares and mind, even during the day. Whenever he was on a patrol and happened to pass by the rapids, his head hung low as he quickly snapped it in the other direction, refusing to see it. Everyone was worried about him, worried about the missing whiskers and down-spiral of depression he was speeding into. He didn't care. He stopped caring about anything, stopped talking. That even had Moss concerned. This behavior went on for four months straight, until he finally began to act like himself again. The plucking hadn't stopped, but life was returning to his eyes. He started talking, or rambling for that matter, to Moss again, started helping around the cottage for Jackal, started helping with whatever Fir or Milk needed, and he started helping his parents with his three little siblings again. It was nice, and while he did think of Maria often, it slowly faded into the back of his mind. He was happy. And that was how he was now, still bouncing around the cottage and territory doing whatever was asked of him. He still had family, and he still had friends. That knowledge seemed to fend off the evil in his mind, but sometimes at night, he could still feel it crawling at the edges of his brain.