She was old. As much as her inner child wished to deny this simple fact of life, the recent drop in weather served as a constant reminder just how 'up there' Enoki had gotten. It was steadily growing harder to rise and greet the chilly moments of dawn's first light, her internal clock refusing to allow the magpie to sleep in past the sun itself. Alas, the stiffening of her joints in the wake of such cold temperatures, though, made it hard for her to actually leave the confines of her den to enjoy the first warm rays of the sun upon her heavily silvered pelt. Once memorizing series of patches that contrasted each other so starkly now seemed faded to a gradient monochrome tone, her scarred muzzle holding the most prominent signs of her advanced age.
Smoldering amber irises seemed equally weary today as the Consul finally managed to emerge from the communal den after one could only assume to be quite the struggle. Her body unceremoniously leaned against the cold rocky surface of the den's outer walls like a crutch to gradually guide her frame down toward the ground and its light dusting of snow that must have fell overnight, where she most likely wouldn't move from for awhile. Which was fine. Walking too far was too exhausting and this allowed her to keep a closer eye on the recovery process of Sven should he need anything.
Getting old sucked.