you could run away, you know. leave all the problems behind. leave all the death behind. . it's odd to see a body that doesn't move. bodies always move. even if it's just breathing. the slight rise and fall of a chest. but not when there is no soul inside of it, darling. . . . chamomile watched the ocean slip in and out of the sand, like a foggy daze. it was calm. calm but not quiet. right then, the ocean seemed endless. endless and open. scary and inviting. she could leave. leave and never look back. she could leave her grief and leave her pain and leave her sadness behind. leave everything. leave everyone. /oh, how many times have you run away?/ bonekit was dead. he had been dead for some time now. but chamomile could live for bonekit. she can't leave. she needs to live life, for him, for every dead cat that died too soon. they need to make friends, have fun, hunt and patrol, fall in l-- goodbye bonekit. goodbye and thank you.
