Timberwolf.
Timberwolf woke up that morning, with an ache in his bones. The old tom couldn’t help the frown that formed upon his features, and the way that it morphed into a look of pure displeasure as he moved from his nest, slowly, and tried to stretch. The displeasure turned into a wince. It was a chillier Newleaf morning, not quite chilled enough to have frost, but enough for him to feel the bite of the cold as he hobbled out of the Elder’s den.

Timberwolf looked longingly toward the camp’s entrance — he’d had plans today. He wanted to go find a sunning rock outside of camp, one of his favorite things to do… But his joints had other ideas, clearly. With a heavy sigh, he turned and gingerly, but stiffly picked his way over toward the Medicine Den.

“Ice-eyes,” he called out, after peering into the den, not quite seeing the white Medicine Cat within the subtle gloom. “Are you in?” There was a rasp of pain of his voice, that he tried to mask as best that he could, but truly, to no avail.

athesia