Firefly Glen [PHE] the type that makes me feel old

Cygnet slept like the dead.

The little kicks and whimpers she’d huffed in the early stages of sleep had finished perhaps half an hour ago- and she succumbed to the state of paralysis while she settled into a deep and restful slumber. There she lay, flattened on her side and relaxed- putting all her faith in the goodwill of others.

She did not hear Mae approach or even the sound of the skin as it was draped over Mae. The first scuffle elicited nothing more than a twitch from her whiskers.

But when Mae snarled she lurched to her feet, one ear inside out and one lip curled, blinking the fog and stupor of sleep away. Her limbs- still recovering from paralysis- wobbled beneath her but in the dark she spotted the fray- two bodies that wrestled on the ground.

She sent up a shrill bark of alarm and dazedly lunged forward, grabbing onto the first piece of skin she could grab and began shaking the absolute bajeezus out of it. 

The pelt Sobeille had brought with her would never recover.