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Silver Fishie
Shinefang stretched his jaws wide in a deep yawn. The cool air of the early morning in Skyclan camp filled his senses with the damp scent of oncoming rain, a greenleaf shower was coming. He didn't just know that from the smell. His joints were killing him this morning. His fur was still bunched and matted from sleep, but he had gone to try and groom himself and given up when his stiff leg erupted sharp pain as he tried to force it closer to his tongue. He was sure he looked like a matted old rogue. Normally, his comfrey-lined nest took care of the worst of his joint pain, but the leaves he was using were old and he didn't have many fresh ones left. You never knew when an apprentice was going to limp into his den with a broken leg in his line of work. He'd have to get more today, and he figured it was better to brave the morning damp and deal with a little extra pain and stiffness than let his clanmates see him like this. With his teeth clenched, the old tom shambled toward the clearing entrance as quietly as if he was stalking prey.