Open would I wind back the clock? nah. - intro

[winifred]

WINIFRED ✽ 90 MOONS ✽ SHADOWCLAN

Two yellow eyes blinked open, piercing through the thick foggy dawn. The ex-loner turned Clan elder swerved her ears and lifted her chin off her paws. The movements were slow and calculating. One could not help but question whether it was her creaky bones or her cunning mind that caused her to behave in such a manner, but it was her way of being. The dark brown feline enjoyed awakening in the den, the floor littered with pine needles, a scent that seemed to linger no matter where she walked. It was comforting here. She had company here. Perhaps words of gratitude for ShadowClan's provision and support would never leave her lips, but within, Winifred was fully cognisant of her appreciation for the Clan.

Rising from her cozy resting place, the elder felt a twinge in her left hind leg, and her maw curved into a grimace. Ugh, I wish I were a kit again. Winifred remembered her days as a kit, though that was a lifetime ago. There were bits and pieces of the memories that she clung to, an occasional glimpse into the cushy life she lived—a collar, some housefolk, a warmth she never fully experienced again. She never planned to leave. Being left on the side of the Thunderpath by those she thought loved her...that was not her choice.

A loner's life ensued after that day. Traveling from place to place, she frequented many sights familiar to the Clan cats— the shipyard and the occasional trespass into rogue lands. Far from the comforts of her beginnings, Winifred developed a harshness that shielded her from the troubles of the wild and, after living so many moons with that trusty shield, the ragged feline wasn't going to give it up now. That demeanor granted her a spot in the ranks of ShadowClan, even as an older feline, who at the time of arrival, was the age of a senior warrior. A lifetime of searching for company and comfort to no avail, and a rocky start down that path, sharpened her spirit.

Winifred groaned, shaking her twinged leg, as if doing so would make the ache of age reverse itself. Her white paws carried her outside the elder's den and across the pine and stones towards the freshkill pile. The elder paused intermittently to shake her pained leg.

Another groan escaped her maw as she slumped down beside the prey. She eyed a sparrow with interest and, with a claw, hooked and dragged it closer to her side. The pile isn't as pitiful as I thought, but that might change. Winifred's knowledge at her age wasn't all-encompassing, but the elder knew that with the leafbare quickly approaching, the amount of prey would likely dwindle. Lucky me. Winifred smiled, a rare sight.

Elder privileges.

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[MIREPURR]

Mirepurr gets an idea; perhaps they should bring Winifred a piece of prey next time, to avoid her having to crawl out from the elders' den despite her no doubt aching joints. It's good that they don't voice it though—on second thought, she might snap their head clean off for daring to suggest that she cannot provide for herself. The she-cat has a reputation for being grumpy, but then again, Mirepurr supposes she has a reason for that. How many moons must she have under her belt? Wisdom, experience... they hope to possess plenty of that in time.

"Greetings, Winifred,"

Mirepurr says kindly. They have already finished their meal, and have been using one of their paws to clean the spot behind their ear. Soon, they will try and catch something again, though they remind themself not to overhunt before the real challenge even begins.

Watching a rare smile spread across Winifred's face, Mirepurr takes the opportunity to chat with her.

"What do you think? Is this leaf-bare going to be a problem, or will we have an easier time than anticipated?"

She must know the signs that they might not have picked up on yet; whether the breeze carries promise of a light season or not... or whether the clouds on the horizon are a symptom of great storms or just a mere facade. There is much to learn from an elder.

 

[winifred]

WINIFRED ✽ 90 MOONS ✽ SHADOWCLAN

The achy feline gave a small sigh before curving her neck down to take a nibble of her meal. She always favored sparrows over any other fowl, as they were a delicacy in her mind. Much better than kittypet food, she'd have to admit, though her memories of the taste of kibble were dull and faint.

At the welcoming presence of Mirepurr, Winifred gave a sharp glare. She'd rather not converse while eating; it was not her custom. She'd spent too many moons habituated to solitude. Though she didn't mind the youngster spotting her grin, their presence at her breakfast made it fade as quickly as it arose. Now, Winifred's yellow gaze locked with Mirepurr, a flat, unwavering expression plastered on her face. A few heartbeats of silence passed, and Winifred concluded she would give a reply to Mirepurr. Not out of respect for the young cat. No. Out of self-respect for her moons of knowledge.

Between bites of her sparrow, much to her dismay, the elder began to speak, "Before Clanlife, I noticed..." She paused, taking another slow bite, "...that the prey didn't always appear in the same spots, but there were patterns. Some prey leave the area entirely, while others focus on finding food or burrowing. Depending on what you want to find, that will determine where you look." The elder's words seeped out of her maw like bitter honey. The topic was dull, but she found a pawful of enjoyment in explaining her knowledge. Winifred chewed the remainder of her meal before she continued, "This leafbare...well, what do you think?" Her yellow eyes parted from Mirepurr's and crawled towards the freshkill pile, where, after examining what it contained, she gave a soft snort.

"Doesn't the state of this tell you anything about our future?"

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