Closed Thread As the Cotton Flies

Pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop, whoa. Pressure that'll tip, tip tip 'till you just go pop, whoa.
❖ ⭒ ❖ ⭒ ❀ ⭒ ❖ ⭒ ❖

Tiny droplets dripped from the willow tree above, lazing down the branches before pinging against any cat below. It wasn't raining at this given moment, but judging by how the early morning was, it could easily pick back up again. At least she certainly preferred the occasional drizzle to the thunderstorms earlier in the moon, but the humidity wasn't all that bad.

Cottonbright stood near the warriors hollow, back leg stretched and extended as her pink tongue rasped over a small, dainty paw. Maybe she should take Mintpaw out hunting with her today... but another part of her argued that he should accompany her on her patrol later. Still, she didn't want to hunt alone, and fidgeted slightly as she sat proper on her haunches just wondering herself into a hole on how she should go about her day.

Perhaps she should start with some fresh kill. She had formerly popped in a delivered a meal of minnows to the nursing Otterwhisker, stuttered over her kits, and bumbled her way back out of the warm den. Cottonbright could do with a bite to eat before heading out... Lenthing the extent of her large white form, the tickle of her back toes kicked out before trotting around the boughs of the hollow and followed her nose to the next.