a duty done well [c]

Hazelshade raised her head from where she had been curled up asleep in a beam of green-leaf sun which shone through the branches of the thorn bush that sheltered the elder's nest. Her befuddled and slightly judgemental expression clearly said, where am I? When am I? Just who do you think you are?

However, the haughty face of the fussy elder cleared up to a pleased one when she blinked away the sleep from her sharp, owl-like yellow eyes, which came to settle on the grey-and-russet apprentice.

She stretched up onto her toes with a shudder throughout her old body. She had a lovely, rich brown coat with darker points and her fur was short and silky. Only in certain lights, like now, did it look a little patchy and it was obvious the beautiful slinky she-cat had become frail in her age.

Finishing a lavish stretch, she stepped out of her nest towards the young cat with a pleased trill. "Why, thank you," she purred. Her yellow eyes glimmered with interest and she flopped down to the side of the den out of the way, keeping one open watchfully.

"What's your name?" she asked as the apprentice got to the task. He seemed quite happy to be here, proud of his work, perhaps he would like some conversation.

A bird who couldn't fly anymore? Hazelshade's eyes softened. Even an old one like her leaped through the trees on occasion. She might have opened her mouth to tell the apprentice he was wrong, but she wanted to be gentle with Whinchatpaw, and shut her mouth again with a small click. Tsk.

It had not been intended as a cruel question. He swept the dust in the entrance, telling her he was alright, but it was almost to himself. "You can hope for better than alright," Hazelshade huffed, almost as quietly. He he had had hopes. Hazelshade could see see the tension in his jaw like the heaviness in a sky full of rain. And then he let it fall. His guard came down.

Hazelshade listened with a sympathetic ear. "Maybe so. Maybe it's never going to heal," she said eventually, blinking at him. "Be surprised what you can do with three legs, though." She flicked her tail in playful challenge. She had seen a lot of injuries in her life.

Whinchatpaw told Hazelshade about his mentor and his childhood friend. It was sweet and brought a smile to the old she-cat's face. "Silverwing..." she repeated, hoping she would remember it. "That's lovely," both the name and the motherly cat, she was sure.

"Friends that long, you must be close," Hazelshade purred. "Congratulations to your friend." Hazelshade rested her chin on her paws, peering after Whinchatpaw as he ducked outside and limped off to get her food. Like the sky changed, so could a life, in an instant. Hazelshade know longer remembered the pattern of her life. All she could do was be in the ever-changing present.

And she liked it here now with Whinchatpaw. When Whinchatpaw tilted his head with a look at the space next to her, Hazelshade tipped her head in invitation. She sniffed at his choices of food appreciatively. "Thank you, Whinchatpaw," she purred.

"I fancy the chaffinch," she decided. "I don't eat as much at my age. A growing young cat needs to eat," she slid the robin towards him. It had a red chest like him.

She was happy for him to settle down beside her and gave the top of his head a few motherly licks, hoping she had not overwhelmed him. "You can find happiness wherever you are," she assured. "Look at me, I am broken and old but I am happy."