In this den, it rains (Mickey)

Her eyes narrowed to focus her sight slightly more, the old she-cat gazed at the young apprentice, almost glaring. She couldn't care less whether the little tom was an older apprentice or the youngest of the clan. They were all young to her. She huffed when the tom-cat sniffed at the moss of her nest and fluffed up her fur. "My mossnest wet as can be," the elder muttered , "Almost like your peers have left it in the rain outside. And now they've even brought the rain in here!" The constant rain made her slightly agitated, together with her joints which had started aching by the cold weather by now. Lashing her tail, the she-cat started muttering something more, incoherent however, about how the weather had been much better when she was younger.

The apprentice deduced that there was a hole in the roof, just as another droplet of rain fell right between her ears. "Of course there's a hole," the she-cat mumbled, her ears pinned flat behind her back thanks to the uncomfortable feeling of water sliding down the back of her neckfur, "otherwise it wouldn't rain in here." While the apprentice started fixing the hole, she pawed at the remainder of the raindrop that soaked her fur. Rubbing her paw over her head and neck awkwardly, she cursed herself for having grown so stiff. There was a time she had no problem reaching the back of her neck.

The elder warmed up slightly to the young apprentice however when he announced he filled up the hole in the elders den. Truth to be told however, Emberthorn's moods were as fickle as a leaf in the wind and could turn around just as easily again. "Thank you, scrap," she mewed, her voice slightly raspy. "If I had been younger, I would have filled it myself, old bones however." She narrowed her eyes again, regarding him in a slightly confused manner. "What was your name again, young one? Was it Pollenpaw? Or was it Poolpaw?" There were so many names to remember. So many cats who were named differently. Like the queens were trying to be more and more creative in their naming. Stupid custom.

She gave her fur a quick shake when the apprentice asked about her state. "I'm fine I think. Joints are aching however," her mood soured a bit thinking about it. "But I think it's too cold for ticks to come creeping, so no need to get some of that vile mousebile." Actually, she just didn't want an apprentice to rummage through her fur, but for a change, she tried to sound slightly kind. Emberthorn always had a soft spot for the young ones. "If you could get me some dry moss however.. If that's even possible in this Starclan forsaken weather."

Words: 463 || Tag: Mickey || It made me smirk that you did that, haha.