Dragoncrest Cliffs Donnez-moi une suite au Ritz, je n'en veux pas

Tousaint rolled his eyes with an audible sigh. His sister huffed and pranced off, leaving him behind to wait for a few moments, before he pulled his paws away from his chest. Timidly, he sniffed the fox's brush, fearing perhaps that it had become smelly as he'd clutched it so feverishly to him. Some of the hairs had become crinkled, but to his relief, it did not smell like anything other than fox-fur and himself. 

He hissed a quiet swear under his breath and settled the brush gently between his forelegs so that he could groom it, and make it perfect once more. Possibly the last time he might get to play with it before stashing it somewhere safe.