If you love me let me go
These words are knives
that often leave scars

For once he ventures out from the confines of his room and out into the crisp, autumnal air. He goes on a mission for herbs, a quest to keep the store of Dusk Court in tact despite his lack of loyalty. Truly, he needs to break away from the dangerous cycle of his own thoughts, so rather than lounge in the comfort of sheets and pillows he ventures outside. He can’t help but pine for the ever green of his garden, the quiet ripple of his koi pond as the artificial waterfalls formed through careful rockscaping. He had spent countless hours basking in the warmth of the daylight and painting the colorful fish that circled in the water. Today he keeps an eye out for any substance that might be of use to craft into paints. Truly he misses the endless hours wasted with a brush stroke to the page. Art was how he filled the idle hours confined to his own home, now there is nothing but sleep and the silence of his own room. 

Carefully he plucks leaves from a bush and then hands them over to Mittens, letting the cat clutch them between her sharp teeth. He should invest in bags or something he muses to himself, it might be a bit practical with his new role in Dusk. For a moment he wonders if his mother would be proud at his pursuits in healing. Much of her knowledge didn’t pass on deaf ears even if he never sought to be a medic. It is difficult for him to mend others when he himself is not whole. There are too many broken pieces scattered, portions of him are merely poorly stitched back together, but alas time might heal his wounds.
He is pulling more leaves from the branches when he feels a nudge from his companion. Someone is here Mittens whispers. Jude’s head raises and he looks around nervously. 

”Who’s there?” Jude calls.