W'ren! The brown called, waking his rider from a sound sleep. The fuzzies are back!
W'ren lept from the furs, and dashed to Hirlath's weyr, clad only in the short black pants he slept in. Sure enough, the four feline kits had snuggled up with the weyrling again. He picked up the nearest, a klah-colored tabby, and cradled him in his arms. "They're just little felines, Hirlath. Nothing to get upset about.
They are fuzzies. the brown said, nuzzling the orange one between his forelegs. She reacted, grabbing for his muzzle with her tiny claws. Hirlath's eyes began to turn orangy-yellow in distress. Fuzzies are sharp! The emotion-laden message crept to W'ren. The tall rider set down teh kit he held, and removed the other three from their perches on his lifemate.
Hirlath tucked up his legs so his rider could sit on the weyrling-sized couch. Of course, W'ren did just that. "Let me see..." he said tenderly, and Hirlath turned his head so his rider could see.
Sure enough, the feline had gotten him, a few short scratches visible on his hide. Already the ichor was seeping out a little to heal the scratches.
"You'll be okay, Hirlath." W'ren said, rubbing his hands up and down the sides of the brown's head, scratching his eyeridges.
Soon the brown was happy again, and so was W'ren. The rider rose to go back to bed, but soon found that was impossible. Taking a spare fur from his trunk, W'ren went back out and curled up with his adoring brown.
Is something wrong? Hirlath asked sleepily.
"The kittens took over my bed."
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