Smoke Signals (c)

So Smokefeather had retired? Juniperlight felt odd about that. He carried a squirrel to the elder’s den to seek her out, as was customary when visiting an esteemed elder. Maybe it was because she was younger than him, or maybe it was because she had been a headstrong and willful warrior before his absence. One thing was certain: Smokefeather had to have chosen to retire, and if that were true, then he respected her choice and her service and would honor her as she deserved. “Smokefeather? Are you awake?” He called into the elder’s den softly. It was late in the day. The sun lit up the tips of the surrounding trees, which were mostly bare, and sent rays of golden light into the camp in streams. He was about ready to head to be himself, being more of an early riser than a night owl. But he felt compelled to speak with someone... someone who’d known troubles like he had.

"Juniperlight...?" Dull gray-green eyes turned toward the entrance of the den at the sound of the voice, head lifting from her paws wearily. Smokefeather had been sleeping a lot recently, or trying to, at any rate. All too often her sleep was quickly interrupted, plagued by dreams she wanted nothing more to forget, and today had been no different. She'd long since given up on sleep, though she hadn't moved from her nest. Her long tortoiseshell fur remained dull and patchy from stress, and there were white hairs at her muzzle that hadn't been there a season ago, though Smokefeather still couldn't quite bring herself to care about them as she might have once.

Taking in the form of the dark tom that had entered the den, Smokefeather blinked. Her former denmate had gained scars of his own, assurance that this wasn't some dream. He'd been gone since last leaf-fall, long enough to miss all the excitement, though maybe excitement had found him in the end, too. That seemed to be the Skyclan way of things.

"Been a while." She forced herself into a sitting position, wincing despite careful movements. Her left hind leg was a mess of tangled scars, held gingerly against her body. She still couldn't put weight on it and probably never would again. It was fine, she lied to herself. "How are you?" She just hoped he didn't ask her the question in turn. There was no decent answer she could give him.

’Oh.’ His eye landed on her scarred leg, sympathy flooding through him. But he didn’t dwell on it, his gaze instead switching to her tired face. Every warrior earned their stripes with due time. He was just glad that whatever caused those marks didn’t end her life. ”May I share a meal with you, Smokefeather?” Juniperlight purred, then picked up the squirrel and gently set it before her.

He sat down, preferring to wait for her confirmation before settling in. Her question bounced around in his head for a while before he settled on an answer. ”It feels like a lifetime. I am... lucky. It took a long time to come home, and though I’m tempted to retire and rest, I feel like I need to prove that I really am devoted to SkyClan. That I’m not like...” Juniperlight’s soft meow trailed off. He didn’t mean to unload his worries on the elder the moment he walked into her den. ”I-I’m sorry. Are you comfortable? I trust your daughter is taking good care of you?”

"Of course." Smokefeather nodded at him. The company wasn't unwelcome, she had to admit. And Juniperlight had little knowledge of all that had happened. He was less likely to look upon her with pity or disgust, at the very least.

"I... can't say I blame him for leaving anymore, with how things have been around here..." She muttered wryly. "Things were calm for about two seconds after we left Riverclan's camp." Two seconds was a generous estimate. A very generous estimate. After that, there simply hadn't been peace to speak of.

"Beechface as overbearing as ever, but she does a good job of it." Her daughter meant well, of course, but that didn't change that it was beyond infuriating to no longer be able to do what she used to. It was hard not to be resentful of that, although laying the blame at Beechface's paws was unfair of her. If Juniperlight wasn't going to ask about what had happened, that was for the best, Smokefeather thought. He'd find out soon enough anyways, she was sure. "I think she's finally learned to accept being a medicine cat, at least. I know she wasn't happy about it, but she's handled things well." There was a note of pride in Smokefeather's voice, at that. Her daughter was... downright frustrating at times (or most of the time, depending on who one asked) but she'd done an admirable job at handling the chaos that was Skyclan's very existence.