There were many things Chickpaw was not, and combative was one of them. It was true the tom, small as he was, had been windblown by the awful bout of storms. The sky was clearing up now, the downpour turning into something of a drizzle, and the little cat was delighted by it. The rains had subsided, the danger with it, and he was far happier trudging through the mud than floodwaters up to his stomach.... but this trudging had done a number on his shiny coat, dulled by the weariness of the day, and all but entirely entangled in various bits of rubble. He hadn't taken the time to clean it up (I mean, with as many things as he got into, it was only bound to become messy once more).
But of course, as soon as Dustystar beckoned him, the tom nodded a gentle head and wandered over.
"Howdy, Miss Dusty." He greeted her with a lopsided grin, slipping into the makeshift den (if one could even call it that) that Dustystar sheltered in. With little thought, he bumped his head against the other before slumping between her paws, a foolish smile upon his face.
"Gettin' nicer out, isn't it? Suns about to come to say hi, I reckon. Any day now for sure." Green eyes locked onto a small form, even smaller than his, and he tilted his head.
"You ready for sunny days again, Branch?"
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yappin at @Branchkit
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Chick
☀︎—Windclan Apprentice
☀︎—He/Him
☀︎—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
☀︎—A small cinnamon shorthair with patches of long golden fur.
#FBCC86 #847635
