herding cats in a hurricance

Whit was really not a fan of storms. For one, they were cold, and he rather liked it when the sun warmed his fur. Two, they were wet, which... Okay, wet just sucked. It was icky and uncomfortable and just not okay. Last but not least, they were noisy. Cold, icky and noisy were definitely NOT conducive for napping, and thus they made the hefty Frostfur quite the unhappy camper.

The pup's eyes fluttered open when a particularly loud roll of thunder quaked overhead. Though his ears were still developing, it almost felt as though the sound was pressing heavily upon his eardrums. He was not a fan, and he quickly made it known with an unhappy series of whimpers and growls.

Unfortunately, it seemed that only Allure and Pasha were around to pay him any attention. Grumbling, Whit wriggled about until he located his mother at the mouth of the den. With a grunt, he rolled onto his paws. Or.. he tried. It actually took about four grunts and attempted rolls before he finally righted himself and began to waddle towards his mama. He was grumpy damnit, and like hell he was just going to lay there and not be placated.