herding cats in a hurricance

The cold was not something Allure had battled often – the den usually held an air of warmth to it, and heat was only tenfold within the comfort of her mother’s and siblings fur. A chill had taken to her, though, and shivering, the bi-toned baby released a soft whimper, unfurling herself from Pasha and clumsily stumbling (whilst falling a few times) toward her mother. Bazi shielded them from the brunt of the storm, but the little girl was not content until she pushed closer in to the nook or her mother’s armpit, towards her belly. Gumming silently at Bazi’s paw, Allure remained aware that something was different about the air – but oblivious to what the rattle of thunder and gusts of wind could truly mean or be.