Chameleon didn’t find herself wandering a lot recently, having less and less time to do so as of late. Between all of her duties and responsibilities as an apprentice, it was hard to find time for herself, and, when she did, she would not usually spend her time alone. She preferred to maintain a lingering presence within the Dustrunners camp when she wasn’t busy, having a tendency towards swimming in the oasis a lot more recently. That, or, she would just keep someone in camp company as they sat in a den, or outside, or even just sat around, enjoying the presence of someone else sitting next to her as she quietly messed around. It was peaceful, and it was easy to say that Chameleon had been quite satisfied. She hadn’t really felt unsatisfied enough to go exploring in a while, instead having preferred to wander in her younger days of apprenticeship, before the weight of the world and its responsibilities had landed on her shoulders. Before she had realized that she was to play a role in the structure of the loner group, too. When she did wander, when she /had/ wandered, it was typical to find her wandering a clan’s border rather than the desert. The desert was long, boring, endless stretches of sand, and there was nothing for Chameleon to do there other than sunbathe. Day by day, there wasn’t a new sight in the Barrens. Near the clans, though, there was always something new to see. She had realized early on that there were so, so many cats on the island, cats of different clans, that she would have to meet. There wasn’t a whole lot of, so to say, diversity, within the Dustrunners, really. There was Kākāpō, one of the Trailblazers, of course, who was a falconcat, and there was Ceruleancharge, whom she had come to find out was a seacat who had been exiled. Dilly-Dally-the-Great, whose name she couldn’t say without a laugh, had left IceClan under Aurora-quartzstar’s rule. And then there was Magenta, quite the odd looking cat. As if Chameleon had any room to talk about that, though. And Theodore, too, strange little creature. She was a big fan of Theodore, and she always had been. Jackrabbit, too, of course, who was not even a cat and couldn’t even pass as one as Theodore could. But that was as far as the species diversity reached, here, because everyone else was a normal cat. It was very shocking to her to realize that there were other species elsewhere. But she did realize very quickly once she was allowed to leave camp, and, well, trespass. Never maliciously, of course, but trespassing nonetheless. Chameleon had expected the clans to be… like the Dustrunners, really, because she had never bothered to learn much about them as a kit, so it was a surprise to her once she realized that clans consisted of so so many cats of the same species all living together in their strange territories that seemed strangely tailored to them. It was hard to live anywhere but the land of your species [and the Barrens, of course], so much so that these cats would all live together, unquestioningly, with the odd exception, of course. Something else that Chameleon had learned was that it was quite hard to trespass. These clans, as the Dustrunners were, were very diligent about patrolling their borders, and would do so multiple times each day. Seemed like a waste, to her, to do that much, because what was anyone gonna do in anyone else’s territory, anyways? Everyone had plenty of prey, and all that did, in her opinion, was keep others from socializing, and from learning about cultures within other clans. It was sure nonsense, she thought. There was a loophole that Chameleon had discovered, though. She could walk all the way around the perimeter of the Barrens right next to the borders and not get in trouble with anyone as long as she stayed right on the edge. That was a rule that the clans had, so she couldn’t get in trouble because, well, she was /following the rule./ Duh. They couldn’t punish her for following their rules. So, that was what Chameleon did most often. When she knew that she’d had a good long time to go about, she’d go on a walk around the edge of the desert. The changes in scenery were jarring at best, but it had to do, because she’d be stuck in the Barrens if she didn’t. No fun in that. But, one day, she did feel compelled to go exploring. She had been avoiding it for a while, sticking to hunting in places that she was familiar with. Places that she had been shown by a warrior. When it came to the desert, Chameleon was not the adventurous type, and it was anyone’s guess as to why, really. It wasn’t like Chameleon herself even knew, but, staring out onto the horizon, and the stretching desert before her, left her paralyzed in fear, unable to take one more step forward.
For some reason, there was no paralyzing fear today. The sun beat down hot on the sand and burned her paws, and it seemed like today would have been the worst day /ever/ to go exploring, especially when she could be swimming, or doing something that she actually thought was fun, but the dunes seemed to call her name today. Chameleon took a step forward, cautiously, and threw a glance backward at the camp. She was meant to be in the camp. She wasn’t meant to leave. This was her place. Why did she want to leave today? She wasn’t supposed to want to venture into the desert unaccompanied. That wasn’t what she was supposed to want. But she wanted it. Bad. So, she took off, not without a second thought, but without a second glance. This wasn’t so bad. Not at first. It seemed to Chameleon that she had merely been working herself up, overreacting on a little, irrational fear. The desert wasn’t scary. It was /the desert./ She lived here, and Soulfaith and the rest of the Dustrunners lived here and there were loners that didn’t live by the oasis that just lived /out here/. If it was livable like that, it couldn’t be so bad. It wouldn’t have been that bad, really, if you happened to be anyone but Chameleon. Just a little hot, was all, and that wasn’t anything that the venomcat wasn’t used to. But after a while, she had come upon… a familiar sight. The dunes had a tendency to shift, sand blown into different shapes by the wind in as little as a few hours. Yet, despite the fact that it had been about eight moons since anyone had been here, the dune that towered in front of Chameleon still stood tall, and held its shape. It wasn’t that tall of a dune, really. It was nothing out of the ordinary, and it was easy to miss, and that was what had made it perfect for its first purpose. That purpose was not to intimidate Chameleon, although that seemed to be its only purpose now. No, Chameleon remembered this place, and she stood, slack-jawed. Denial was more of a permanent state of being for Chameleon than it was a temporary state of mind. For some, it would last briefly, and then acceptance to follow, yet Chameleon had shoved the memory of this place so far down that she likely wouldn’t have dug it up if she hadn’t been right here. She didn’t want to remember it, but she couldn’t help it now, and it all burst out, and her legs felt shaky and weak and she fell to the ground.
