Shadow Mountain here's what I meant to say was how I'd prefer you, cruel, cold and grey

At some point, Frosty left.
 
And at some point, Daighre fell asleep.
 
It was a shit sleep, too light and almost dozing. Somewhere between worlds and unrestful. And yet, he tried.
 
It was disturbed only when he heard the quiet, catlike movement of paws. Felt a nose, cold and wet and foreign, brush against his fur. And he felt the telltale moisture of breath on his skin.
 
He huffed, sleepily bared his teeth, a corner of his lip half raised—
 
And batted at the nose with his paw.
 
“Fuck off, Frosty.” He mumbled; his eyes still pressed resolutely—doggedly, determinedly—shut.