[open] between the sunbeams; the sky

[Mafdet]

She is full and clean and warm, and it takes little else to put Mafdet right to sleep, white belly up in the warm summer sun for a long and glorious nap. Her dreams are uncomplicated - catching an emerald beetle, pouncing on a crunchy leaf - and a soft purr emanates from her chest as she dozes.

When she wakes, the wide black pupils narrow to vertical slits as she rolls over, revealing a brilliant shade of blue a near match for the cloudless sky overhead. Mafdet yawns, revealing a mouth of sharp white teeth, then rewashes her white forepaw until it glistens in the sun. The warmth of the earth lingers pleasantly against her belly, and she stretches each orange leg in turn before settling again.

The cat leisurely adjusts herself into a sitting position, her full orange tail moving slowly from side to side as she looks around. The Meadow is much the same as it had been before her catnap, tall green grasses waving in the wind. The scent of a hare reaches her twitching pink nose, and the song of a warbler nested in the tall stalks nearby fills the warm summer air. 

In the east, there is a tall oak just visible over the tall grass, and she considers it. The wide branches are good for sleeping, but would it be too cool in the shade? Only one way to find out, she supposes, and begins to walk toward the tree, leaving small pawprints between the halfmoon tread of hooves. 

[Druid]

Druid is full, he is warm, but it is not often that he’s clean. Not in the typical sense of cleanliness.

Sure, his coat shone when golden rays of sun managed to breach the canopy of woods that he roamed, but his mane caught trinkets of dried foliage all the while. Pine needles stuck in twisted clusters amidst clinging coils of dried lichen. Baked earth hewn piecemeal along the lower length of his legs, blending still with the walnut tint that called itself his coat.

Here in the quiet, he finds himself in long draughts of contemplation, wandering the edges of the meadow where grass meets fallen leaves and the air is slightly cooler near a treeline of oaken wood.

He drifts there, making a gently worn path amidst lengthy grasses that sway against a warmed breeze, and the rustle of leaves when they meet the same wind. Druid stills, flicking his liver-tinted ears against his sun-drenched mane to replace mere observation with genuine curiosity. A warbler calls in the distance, ensnaring his swampy eyes to flit from tinges of pasture to a note of movement that didn’t quite match the rhythm of the innocuous wind.

There is fluff at first, something he almost dismisses as a misconceived glint of sunlight, soft wheat that claimed his eyes for uncertainty. A flash of white is bolder still, peeking between stalks before it too disappears and he tugs his head back with revelation. Two ears pull forward in contrast, he’s intrigued, allowing his nostrils to flare wide and scenting the unusual smell of—is that cat?

A low huff bubbles up his chest, followed by a careful nicker that carries with it a greeting.

”Hello,” he would say, but would the feline allow conversation?

druid

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