Poking a Sleeping Bear [Open]

This was the body of an old fighter - powerful muscles, now hidden under saggy skin. A grayed, scar-riddle pelt, a patch of fur missing in-between his left ear and left eye, claw marks across his clouded right eye, a worn, soured face. Such was the fate of all warriors who didn't die in battle.

Flickerfoot lay outside the elder's den, sunshine warming his old tuxedo fur. The warmth penetrated his tired bones and relaxed his sore muscles. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he stretched on the sandy ground, reaching his legs out to his side. The life of an elder was easy, yes, but Flickerfoot missed the good old days of patrols, swimming, and sinking his claws into an enemy cat. He longed to fight again. However, nobody would spar a creaky old cat.

The elder twitched a notched ear as paw steps approached. He opened his pale green eyes, turning his one good eye to whoever was drawing near. "Yes?" he growled grumpily, blinking against the bright sunshine to see who it was.

With the rising heat that was often uncomfortably sweltering, Tinyshadow wanted to make sure his clanmates were staying cool and hydrated. He knew firsthand, his thick, dark fur sometimes made him feel like he was so hot he was suffocating, and while swimming in the cool waters of the river often helped, he knew there were those who couldn't leave camp as often as he could, namely the elders. This was the reason he found his paws leading him toward their den to check in on them. Although he was now a warrior and caring for the elders was often labeled an "apprentice task", Tinyshadow was of the belief that every chore should be shared equally among every cat.

"Hi Flickerfoot!" He said cheerily, ignoring the elder's grumpiness. He was probably just annoyed to have been disturbed from his relaxation. "I just wanted to check on you," He explained, relishing the warmth of the sand on his fur as he sat next to the old tom cat. "Awfully hot today isn't it? Have you been getting enough to drink? It's important to stay hydrated on days like these."

"Ahh, Tinypaw...no, it's Tinyshadow now, isn't it?" Flickerfoot knew the clan's apprentices well from their duties caring for the elders, and he had a soft spot in his heart toward them. He remembered his own apprenticeship days of removing ticks from the cranky old elders with mouse bile...not a pleasant memory. So, he appreciated it when apprentices had to do that stuff to him.

The battered tuxedo tom rolled onto his back, squinting against the sunlight that blinded his good eye. "Let me give you some advice, son. You're a warrior now, and you got dibs on the good duties. Leave caring for us old folk to the apprentices and medicine cats." He hoped Tinyshadow didn't hear the dryness in his throat. To be honest, Flickerfoot was absolutely parched, but he'd never admit that to the young warrior. It was a matter of pride.