A Grouse among Cedar trees

'Ugh. This stuff is terrible.' A young tom padded across the clearing of WindClan's camp. A stick heavily coated in mouse bile held gingerly between his teeth as he padded carefully over the snow covered landscape. The sun shone down, making the snow that much brighter, yet there was no warmth from it. The air was still bitterly cold as steam wafted from between his parted jaws with each breath.

When he reached the elder's den, he ducked his head respectfully as he entered. 'I know they were former warriors at one point, but it feels like such a waste that they get to sit here while the rest the clan hunts.' He kept his thoughts held behind his tongue as he sat down beside Cedarfur. He'd been told that the poor old tom had been experiencing difficulties with ticks. Normally he wouldn't have bothered to volunteer for such a job. Yet, his paws ached from patrol and the idea of lazing in camp made his pelt itch with the need to do something.

"Cedarfur." He greeted curtly. His blue gaze sharp as he observed the older tom's condition. He certainly wasn't as bad off as some cats were. "Briarpaw said you were having issues with ticks?"

Having been fast asleep in the dimly lit den, the sudden voice of Gorsepaw brought the elder's ears to perk up. Lifting his head and blinking his emerald green eyes in attempt to adjust to whoever he was looking at, Cedarfur purred as the tom set down the mousebile. Finally, he'd hopefully get rid of these pestering ticks.

"I wish ticks were the only thing I was having a problem with," he chuckled, wishing he wasn't plagued with back problems as well. On top of his injury those many moons ago, it was just one of the many "blessings" that came with being old, which he didn't appreciate much. "But yes, as of late, they've been more horrible than usual," the abnormally long legged elder added lightheartedly.

Grousepaw's head tilted at the older tom's words. A frown on his brow as he looked over the tabby tom with a critical eye.
"You have other issues? Would you like me to fetch something else from Briarpaw?" He asked, though he felt a pang of disdain over the disorganisation of such information. 'It's not their fault.' He thought to himself dryly. He wished he could blame them, but there was no point. It was a useless waste of energy. Too worthless to even bother with as he picked up the bile and padded to the elder's pelt.

A sudden idea struck him as he rested the bile over a tick.
"Cedarfur. You were once a strong warrior of WindClan... would you tell me some of your wisdoms while I take care of these ticks for you? I want to be the best warrior WindClan has seen since your day." He meowed in politeness. While he wasn't sure what Cedarfur was like as a warrior, it was safe to assume he had been a valuable asset. Most elders were, even though their bodies weren't capable anymore, there was no doubt their minds could be sharp.

"Unfortunately, yes. But there's no need to bother Briarpaw anymore, for my back problems can't be fixed," the lean tom mewed, trying not to sound too down-stricken, for the last thing he wanted to do was make the apprentice's visit a pity-party. Purring as Grousepaw got to work, Cedarfur laid still for the young tom and thought of wisdom to share. The elder had been through so much in his lifetime, but with age came forgetfulness, something he seemed to be suffering from a lot lately, and hopefully, he'd be able to say something of at least a little use.

"In all of my moons that I'd lived, I've learned that loyalty means nothing unless it has, at its heart, the absolute principle of self-sacrifice. Even doing trivial tasks, such as caring for the elders, can go a long way," he mewed with a somewhat teasing tone, his tail flicking back and forth every so often.