WindClan Elders' Den

[Tallstar]

Duckthroat
106 Moons
He/Him,They/Them

Duckthroat shifted restlessly on his mossy bedding, his old bones protesting with every movement. The chill in the WindClan air seeped into his fur, making his joints ache more than usual. He squinted at the entrance of the elder’s den, feeling a pang of frustration.

“Why does it seem so much farther today?” he muttered, trying to muster the strength to rise. The familiar surroundings of the den, once comforting, now felt like a prison. His paws, gnarled with age, trembled as he pushed himself up. He was determined to visit the fresh-kill pile, even if the thought of walking there seemed daunting.

“I’ll just get a bite and come right back,” he said aloud, his voice rough but resolute. With a final deep breath, he forced himself to his feet, each step an effort. Duckthroat’s heart ached with both physical pain and the frustration of his declining abilities. He glanced around at his fellow elders, all of whom were wrapped in their own quiet struggles.

“Stay strong, old friend,” he whispered to himself as he shuffled towards the entrance. Each step felt like a battle, but he was a warrior at heart, and this was a challenge he intended to face head-on.

OPEN (help the grandpa) @Oliver

[nyme]

ALL I EVER WANTED
WAS TO BE OF WILDFLOWERS

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ❀ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

MAGGOTKIT . 5 MOONS . IT/ITS . WINDCLAN

"Duckthroat! Did you hear about the cat who ate grasshoppers, and then he could jump really high but he jumped too high and he hit his head on a Starclan cat and then—" Maggotkit's babbling happily as it saunters to the elder's den, excited to share a new story (that it's basing largely on recent experiences) and to ask for some more from a real story-master, but it skids to a wobbling halt at the mouth of the den. Seeing elders move slowly is nothing new, but something about Duckthroat's present struggle makes it feel...odd. It's not something Maggotkit has a name for, but it's tender and it hurts.

"Are you..." It hesitates, creeping into the den to sniff the old cat. "You're moving funny. Do your legs work?" Maybe Duckthroat needs to eat some grasshoppers. It wonders if there's a story that could help this, but it's suddenly got no appetite for make-believe.

@Tallstar ; DUCKTHROAT

[Tallstar]

Duckthroat
106 Moons
He/Him
They/Them
Duckthroat's ears twitch as the little kit's voice filters through the den. The elder's movements are slow and labored, and though he manages a slow turn of his head to greet Maggotkit, there's a shadow of weariness in his gaze that seems more profound than usual.

The old cat lets out a soft, almost wistful purr. "Ah, Maggotkit. You're as lively as ever. My legs don’t quite work like they used to," he admits, his voice raspy but gentle. He gestures with a shaky paw for the kit to come closer. "It's not the grasshoppers I need, but thank you for thinking of me."

Duckthroat’s eyes crinkle with a fond smile as he watches Maggotkit’s curious face. “Sometimes, the stories we tell are as important as the stories we hear. How about you share one with me? Your tales are always so full of imagination. They might just be the perfect remedy for an old cat's weary bones."

He shifts a little, trying to get comfortable on his mossy nest. The effort seems to cost him, but he hides it well, focusing on the kit’s enthusiastic face instead/CENTER]
@nyme