He moved toward the river on quiet paws, his gaze distant and unfocused. He wasnt paying attention to his surroundings, letting his paws guide him toward the water, until he drew near and found who was already waiting there.

The ginger tom exhaled sharply. He could not go a few days without bumping into her, could he? His ears pinned back against his head and he turned to head back where he had come. “Cheer up, Violetstar,” Chimerahunt muttered, “or someone’ll get the wrong idea.”

No. It’s hard all the time.

For once he kept the grim thought to himself. He shifty slightly to catch a glimpse of her with his eye. “Yes, but you chose this. Our ancestors asked you to be leader, but you were the one that accepted it,” he reminded her.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care, either. Who’s to say we wouldn’t be better off if we were all on our own? At least then we wouldn’t be a part of their sick games. We keep playing into their paws like they’re going to change, like our ancestors will decide they won’t punish us after all, but they have for gernstioks and they always will.”

“Because I couldn’t,” he replied flatly. “Because I couldn’t survive on my own, not like this; not half a cat.” He had struggled with his blindness for a long time, unable to fend for himself, and hating himself for every moment of it. “And what was the point once I could? Why leave when I was fed and left alone here?” Then he sighed deeply, and glanced away from her again, his voice quieting.

“And now... and now, how can I? If I leave now, he died for nothing.”

He hadn’t come here to talk about him. It was... easier, to let it go, as if it had never been. They weren’t official, they were barely public, there was no reason for anyone else to know, for him to expose that fresh agony to the world and wait for silent judgment. But as they so often did around her, the words dragged themselves from Chim’a throat without his permission, choked.

“I barely knew him before, he wasn’t... he wasn’t my servant like he was theirs. I think I frustrated him; he tried to help me, but I never let him, do he stopped trying. Or.. I thought he did, but ever since he decided to stay... to stay with the clan, stay with me instead instead of leaving with the family... I think maybe he was playing the long game. Maybe he knew.” A ghost of a smile graced his expression. “I didn’t know him, but tending to the sick together, I knew him better than anyone else I ever knew. He never gave up helping the rest of us. He knew it would kill him, but he did it anyway.” Chim laughed shakily. “Damn stubborn old fool. Ghosttoad never did know how to quit. I guess it feels wrong to give up and leave when he died to save everyone here.”

He struggled to find the right words to explain how he felt — how he was compelled to give his life to the clan too, how he owed it to him, to them all. He had never been good at sharing his feelings, and he had refused to even mention the somewhat-secret relationship he’d had with Ghosttoad before Ripple Cough had claimed his life. Not even his family — especially not his family — realized exactly what Chim had lost; realized the haunting ghost of the butler remained permanently inprinted on his heart and his mind and the back of his eyelids.

He didn't move as she moved closer against him, hesitant and tense, like a single movement and the moment would end. When she buried her face in his chest, he let out the shuddering breath he had been holding, and rested his chin on the top of her head. His eyes closed, he let his grief run free and untamed, and let her quiet comfort wash over him.

He had been so weak to break down in front of her, but strangely, it felt okay. He never let cats get this close to him, refused to let them catch more than a glimpse of hurt, but it was so much harder to keep up the act around someone he trusted. He didn't trust his clanmates or his family, not any more intimately than as a warrior that had his back, so he was rather naive in the ways of keeping up his guard around anyone close to him; but somehow he had managed to make a friend, and she had slipped in and made him share his feelings. She had ruined his life, but that was okay, because he could finally admit his life hadn't really been worth living; moon after moon after moon of nothingness, but she had given him a purpose.

They could have been there moons or moments, he had lost all sense of time, but when his breathing had finally eased he shifted his muzzle slightly to whisper trembling into her ear, "thank you."

Chim let out a ragged chuckle. He didn't want to argue, so he let the moment pass uncontested, but he knew in his heart she was wrong. He had let his troubles break him, turn him into this, rule his every motion. When he heard of his family's deaths, he was stoic, silent, refused to let a single tear pass; he looked strong, he felt strong, but inside he felt gutted and hollow, and while the others learned to move on he never could. They were strong, strong enough to get past it all, to have a life, and he was not. Chim was a survivor, and that was all - he lived from a distance, too weak to pull the pieces of himself together.

He shook his head slightly, nose brushing her ear. "Hell, Violet, can't even let me break down without trying to help." He smiled weakly, but his voice was almost teasing. He couldn't comprehend why she refused to give up on him, but he appreciated it, deep down.

He had seen her loss, so similar to his, and perhaps that was why he trusted her so easily; but in the moment he had not thought once about her own grief, too wrapped up in his own suffering to realize he was not alone.

He glanced down as she pulled away, an unspoken request in his eye as cold air rushed in to take her place, but as quickly as it had came the look was gone, and he turned away from her and stated further down the bank. Once again he let the silence settle between them, brushing ghosts from the forefront of his mind as he slowly but steadily pieced together his walls once more, bramble by bramble.

“Yeah, well, that’s the problem with friendship,” he replied quietly. “I’m just a warrior, I can’t change the past, I can just watch it bleed into the future.”

He would he ease her pain when he couldn’t bring to address his own? He couldn’t bring back her family, couldn’t help her move on; all he could do was watch her fight.

He stopped and cocked his head, looking back at her. “No. I’m just realistic,” he replied simply. “You live long enough and you will be too.”

He nearly left it at that. She never let him off easy, though, so with a sigh he went on proving it without waiting to be asked or argued with. “I can take on two warriors in a fight if they’re young and inexperienced or if I take one out early. I can go two and a half days without sleeping before it drives me over the brink. I know my limits. I lost an eye to learn them. I have just enough faith in my abilities to know when I’m in over my head.”