Cypresswish paced through the camp after splitting off from the rest of the recently-returned dawn patrol, his head lowered as his shoulders carried the burden of his weight. He was still fighting off the sleep that plagued his body, a yawn forcing itself up his throat. It was as if the energy he’d mustered up for the patrol had zapped itself out of existence the moment he’d arrived back into Orchidclan’s clearing. As he passed by the entrance to the warrior’s den, a part of him wanted to curl up back into his nest and sleep the day away. It wasn’t fair— his near-crippled paw forced Cypresswish to play himself out faster than his clanmates, and even though he cursed his younger self for the injury (now being one of those moments), he wouldn’t let that stop him. The nagging of his duties tugged at his thoughts, and he continued on.

From the corner of his eye, the tom noticed a fragile figure slowly and steadily rising from the entrance of the elder’s den, only to settle down in the early morning sun. By this point, Cypresswish had stopped completely, his paw raised in the air. He watched carefully, the elder seemingly doing the same as him.

Cypresswish should’ve continued on. There was prey to be caught, apprentices to be trained, and duties to be performed… but something about the elder’s frown, his tail lowered and his body slumping down to the ground was too much for the thick-furred tom to shake off his conscience. His whiskers twitched in a vague curiosity, and before he could stop, Cypresswish had found himself limping towards Timberwolf.

“Good morning, Timberwolf.” Cypresswish dipped his head, sitting down a tail-length away. He held onto a sigh of relief that badly wanted to escape as he sat.

It was no secret that the aged tom’s mate had recently passed, and it was a grief shared by many cats. But none so hard as Timberwolf.

He didn’t even know how to approach this other than asking: “How are you doing today?” The words came out in a hushed mew, much quieter than he’d intended. Cypresswish didn’t intend to talk down to the elder, but he was well aware that something was wrong, and Cypresswish believed himself intuitive enough to understand what it was. If misery had a smell, Timberwolf would be stinking of it.

A curiosity ached inside Cypresswish when Timberfur let his thoughts carelessly slip. A dream? With what kind of memories? His mind buzzed with questions only being filled in by assumptions, but before he had a chance to explore, the older tom had already led the conversation two pawsteps forward and away from Cypresswish’s prying thoughts. A part of him was disappointed, wanting to dig deeper… but maybe it was for the best. Hadn’t Timberwolf been through enough already? Surely he didn’t need any questioning.

“Dawn patrol,” He repeated, answering in the form of a gruff sigh, “Same as most others, I suppose.” What else was there to report on? Timberwolf had surely known how these things went, and listing off events the elder encountered plenty of times by now felt redundant. But he listed for his sake and entertainment anyway.

“Marked the borders as usual…” His tail flicked in excitement suddenly as he recalled: “I could’ve sworn I smelt fox down by the lake, but the scent was faint. If I had to guess, it passed through during the night, so it’s no threat to us now.” He reassured.

Another mighty yawn forced itself from him, unsheathing his claws as he stretched through it.

“I think I could really use another good walk to wake me up.” Cypresswish half-joked, half-suggested. He wasn’t entirely sure how he could pick up the old cat’s spirits, but maybe offering some time outside the camp could help? It wasn’t his business, but Cypresswish felt an odd… guilt? Was that what it was? Something about seeing an elder upset, well, upset him, and he felt as helpless as a mouse in the face of an indescribable emotion.

Cypresswish refused eye contact, watching the rest of the cats wander and pace through their camp, taking on their daily routines; some only were merely waking while others had already begun to contribute fresh-kill to the pile. His stomach growled softly as the scent drifted towards him. “Or maybe something to eat.” He suggested, eyes widening.

The growl of his stomach becoming apparent to him after Timberwolf had pointed it out, Cypress laughed. “I think you’re right about that.” He mewed sheepishly.

Cypresswish looked around, surveying the clearing back and forth for any signs of urgency, anything else that would require his immediate attention. But this day was seemingly going to be a long and uneventful one as confirmed by the number of cats lazing about… just as he and Timberwolf did. Only the occasional warrior and apprentice would disappear into the deep woods, and many others were doing nothing more than soaking in the sun as they moved from spot to spot.

“How about this,” Cypresswish brought himself to his paws again, “We can take a walk after I— No—“ The tom shook his head at the elder, realizing that he hadn’t eaten yet either, “We…?” He settled on that. “We have some fresh-kill in our stomach.”

His pace to the fresh-kill pile was speedy, bringing back his trophy of a slightly-nibbled squirrel and an untouched vole to share. He set the fresh-kill down in front of the elder, kneeling down along with it. He lifted his head high, refusing to even look its way until Timberwolf had completed his pickings first, even though the scent was so deliciously tantalizing, enough to make his mouth water. Cypresswish ignored the fact, and ushered the elder on in the meantime as he waited patiently, his voice high with intrigue. “Why don’t you tell me about your fox encounters.”