got nowhere to go [o]

Emberheart was... Adjusting. She still wasn't entirely happy with her retirement, but it was a decision she'd made herself. What if they need me, she asked herself late at night, before recalling that she wouldn't be much use in a fight now. Even before her retirement, she could feel herself starting to fall behind - it was part of what had led to that decision.

Still, the end result was the same, choice of her own or not. She was here, in the elder's den, getting up and moving around every so often. She was restless, even now that the only work she needed to do was rest - especially so, really. And part of it was something she'd been ignoring, the feeling of cool air where cats she'd loved should be beside her. Not just her first love, lost so long ago now - though Dawnpetal was always in her heart - but the other cats she recalled from her younger days. How many of them were still here? Dustcloud, Oakstar... And Ravenstripe, of course. Beyond that, she could only see cats long gone in her mind's eye, the finer details of their faces lost to time and memory.

Even the ones she'd promised herself she would never forget.

...It was perhaps safe to say all this time to reflect wasn't doing her as much good as she'd hoped. Perhaps some kits or apprentices would stop by soon, and she could do what she did best: distancing herself from her thoughts. If there was a benefit to living so much longer than so many cats, it was that she had stories to share; and was happy to do so.

Eyes wide, Duskpaw tentatively stepped into the elder's den. A long worm hung from her mouth, wiggling wildly. No sound came from the apprentice, afraid she might crush her prey at the clasp of a fang. Emberheart's pelt was orange, orange like her worm. Duskpaw sat down carefully, tail flicking in thought as she deposited her worm on the ground. "Here." She mewed simply, ears twitching. "I found you a worm. I think it's fun to watch them dance. It'll help you not be sad." The small apprentice pawed at the wriggling creature, watching as its slimy body rolled over the leaf mulch and old nests. Her green eyes flickered to Emberheart, head tilting. It was strange to her that a good warrior like the ginger tabby would want to sit alone in a musty old den. It reminded Duskpaw of the bush she was born in. Boring. She imagined Emberheart would like to die in a battle, or fight hard until she fell like her father did. Lots of warriors said that was honorable. Duskpaw wondered what they thought about becoming old and sitting in a den. Duskpaw wouldn't want that. There was so much to do.

Wanting more answers, the apprentice padded up to the elder and began to sniff her pelt with a wary nose, stopping at all the scars and nicks. "You're not hurt. Why do you want to be here? The warriors say you can't fight but you're strong and have teeth and claws. I think it would be boring here. Are you in trouble maybe? I can help you escape! You don't have to stay in here forever if you don't want to, Emberheart." It was puzzling to the she-cat that any warrior would want to be here. But the shade was nice, and the old nests were soft. Ready for her answers, Duskpaw found a seat on some moss and began kneading the little plants, curious.

"Duskpaw," Emberheart greeted lazily as the apprentice entered. She was carrying a worm, and while Emberheart was a little bit unnerved at the idea of eating it, noticing that it was still moving reassured her. The apprentice's next words also helped to that effect. "Thank you for the worm, Duskpaw; I'm sure it's a very interesting thing to watch. ...And I especially thank you for not trying to make me eat it," she added a moment later, her distaste at the idea clear on her face. "I'm not exactly hurt, no," she agreed, looking back up. Once upon a time she might have argued, citing her half-missing ear, but she'd long since grown accustomed to it. The honest answer was that she didn't really want to be here, but it didn't feel like the right one. "I have teeth and claws, certainly, but what good are they when your opponent is faster than you? I was started to slow down, you know..." And, truth be told, the hearing in her bad ear was starting to fade. Slowly, yes, but she was noticing it. "Besides, it's an honor to be here. It means I've done something many warriors don't."

"What did you do?" Duskpaw whispered quietly, as if asking her sacred question would disturb some long forgotten rule. The possibility of something unknown and great was incredibly tantalizing to the small apprentice. What did Emberheart possibly do to surpass most warriors? Maybe she had killed a bear, or caught the most squirrels. The idea of such a great adventure was incredible, enough to speed up her relentless kneading. Beside from the impulsive excitement, another web had spun its way through the apprentice's head. Her green eyes flickered between Emberheart's limbs, wondering how the she-cat could have possibly slowed down. Duskpaw didn't want to slow down. The concept of becoming an elder remained a strange one to the apprentice. All of the cats she knew had simply died. Her father didn't slow down. An owl had killed him. And Littlesun had left before Duskpaw could watch her mother become slow. The she-cat began to wonder when bones decided to become frail. Maybe the strong cats never became elders. But that couldn't be right. Emberheart had done something amazing and yet sat in the musty den. Duskpaw thought it almost sad, but remained alert to hear the very important answer Emberheart would give her. There were many secrets here, hidden under the old moss nests and her wiggly worms. All exciting, fun little things.

Emberheart purred at the apprentice's curiosity. "It's something very simple, but also very difficult to do," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. "It means I've survived; that I've fought and won, long enough that I don't have to fight anymore. And, most importantly... I have the chance to make sure cats like you remember the warriors that no longer walk with us." The cats that had filled the camp when she'd first become a ThunderClan cat and the cats that filled it now... It filled her heart with joy and sorrow to realize that. There were a handful of cats older than she was, yes, but Dustcloud had returned to ThunderClan after she had; and Oakstar as well if she remembered right. "I know stories, after all... Stories no one else would know if I didn't share them with all of you."

Well. She wasn't entirely sure of the truth of that statement - how much of what she'd done in her life was common knowledge was beyond her - but there were a handful of things that she could guess were mostly forgotten, now. Smaller stories, yes, but stories nonetheless.

The apprentice's green eyes only widened as the elder explained her feat. "You survived?" Duskpaw echoed, claws flexing in the dirt as she worked to piece together everything Emberheart was saying. The ginger she-cat spoke of great stories, old cats and a time before Duskpaw was born. The thought of such a thing sparked at the undying curiosity in her heart. Without missing a beat, Duskpaw practically jumped; "Tell me your stories Emberheart! Please?" The apprentice wrapped her tail around her paws, gazing into the yellow eyes of her counterpart with excitement. Her attention had been held, and an unspoken challenge had been posted. Duskpaw wanted not only hear the stories of the forest, but to live them as well. She wished to fight beasts and hunt squirrels. She wanted to see the river and the mountains and the sky itself. She would fight, win as Emberheart had. Duskpaw would survive.