Since her arrival several weeks ago, Stingray had given @Towhee a bit of a wide berth. Oh, he would never admit it out loud; he excused himself by making himself plenty busy in the territories surrounding the Copse. No one could argue that. He just didn't really know how to act around his grandma. Despite living in Moonspear together for a short time, he felt he hardly knew her, and he certainly had not made any effort to learn her weird sign language.
Ray could not avoid her forever and escape suspicion, though, especially from his ma, so today he carried a couple mice toward the Taigh. That was where Towhee seemed to spend most of her time. It wasn't that he hated his grandma or anything silly like that. He figured she would be displeased that he couldn't bend his paws the way she might want him to, and he was not looking forward to it. This anxiety came purely from his imagination. He only knew her to be a very hard-working boomer and therefore imagined her as a stern old woman who would bark at him for slouching and comment on his weight and his usefulness and whether he had a girlfriend yet. Frankly, he was terrified of the version of Towhee he had built up in his own head.
By the time Stingray arrived, a cold morning rain was falling over the Copse and his fur veritably sparkled with droplets. He paused to shake off the better part of the water before ducking inside, filling the Taigh with the musty smell of wet wolf and somewhat freshly killed mouse. Stingray blinked a few times, letting his vision adjust, and scanned the den for Towhee, muttering to whoever might be there that he was looking for his grandmother while trying to swallow the feeling of his heart in his throat.
Ray could not avoid her forever and escape suspicion, though, especially from his ma, so today he carried a couple mice toward the Taigh. That was where Towhee seemed to spend most of her time. It wasn't that he hated his grandma or anything silly like that. He figured she would be displeased that he couldn't bend his paws the way she might want him to, and he was not looking forward to it. This anxiety came purely from his imagination. He only knew her to be a very hard-working boomer and therefore imagined her as a stern old woman who would bark at him for slouching and comment on his weight and his usefulness and whether he had a girlfriend yet. Frankly, he was terrified of the version of Towhee he had built up in his own head.
By the time Stingray arrived, a cold morning rain was falling over the Copse and his fur veritably sparkled with droplets. He paused to shake off the better part of the water before ducking inside, filling the Taigh with the musty smell of wet wolf and somewhat freshly killed mouse. Stingray blinked a few times, letting his vision adjust, and scanned the den for Towhee, muttering to whoever might be there that he was looking for his grandmother while trying to swallow the feeling of his heart in his throat.
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don't act like you're not impressed - by Stingray - April 17, 2024, 12:05 PM
RE: don't act like you're not impressed - by Towhee - April 17, 2024, 12:59 PM