February 25th; Early morning; Clear; -17° F/-27° C
The pain in his back and shoulder had not improved with the cold and frost that continued to linger into the end of February, but Mapplethorpe was determined to not let it get the best of him. Believing that a good amount of stretching would aid some sort of healing process, the Leader of the Keep wandered just far enough from his borders to touch upon the tree line of Relic Lore's cherry tree grove, the Wild Cherry Orchard. The trees were bare and still encased in ice, but it was still apparent that there was life here. A select few of the trees bore the shallow marks of what seemed to be a territorial Leader marking off his territory. Mapplethorpe pressed his nose to where the tree had failed to heal, the woody gashes revealing themselves to be nothing but an abandoned landmark. The scents, if there had been any once upon a time, were now gone. Swept away by wind and washed away by the rain and snow. Whoever had been here was no longer around.
In that case, the masked Leader helped himself... even if it pained him to stretch up onto his hind legs and dig his nails into the frozen bark, the dull black nails on his forepaws stripping away the remedied part of the trunk's smooth tree bark. The Orchard in its entirety might not have been his but he had a mind to let anyone else know that, at the very least, this end of the grove now belonged to him. Both of his front paws crashed back down into the snow with a muffled groan that hissed through his teeth and sounded in his throat and chest. "Superi miserera..." he winced as a sharp pang in both his elbows made his arms fold and he fell over in the snow. His head pressed against the blanket of white, momentarily resting it there while he allowed his hind limbs and tail to sprawl out behind him.
He sighed, laying there at the foot of a tree. At this point, it seemed it would be a miracle for him to return back to the den by nightfall, but as it stood, the very least he could be thankful for was the fact that it was only his joints and back that were hurting. For him to rue the day his limbs stopped working or for him to survive a terrible accident would be a long time coming... or so he hoped. With as much energy he could muster, he righted himself by rolling onto his stomach so that he could properly take a look at the world from where he lay, staring up into the fruit- and leaf-less canopy.