The cat, who looked like a tom, seemed in bad shape. He was limping a little after he dragged himself out of the river, his black and silver fur in shambles and his stormy blue eyes glazed with a darkness that had fear, exhaustion, and annoyance hiding inside. There were scratches along his flank and he looked thin with hunger. He seemed to be apprentice age, with his small stature.
The young tom moved forward through the reeds, his pace speeding up as he saw the camp in the distance. Even with all of that fear in his expression, his eyes grew determined as he burst into camp. He yowled in happiness as he looked at the cats that he missed so much, his fur wet and slightly glossy and a darkness that was once in his eyes evaporated into shining light.
"RiverClan..." Typhoonpaw breathed. He was there, he was alive. After everything, he found his optimism once more.
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α ℓσνєя σƒ муѕтєяу, мαgι¢, αη∂ αηgѕт!