A shiver ran over Mojave's back, his pelt was thick, so the cold didn't really bother him. The leaves rustled behind him, and some heather bowed slightly in the wind. The lonely rogue sat down at a sunny spot, the rock was ice cold, it made his pelt tingle. He rolled himself up to a tiny ball, with his tail drapped over his nose, and he slept.
A loud screech made him look up, a black shade flew towards him, and it made him chuckle. ''Hello, Torik.'' He meowed while looking how the bird picked his feathers behind him. A new scent drifted towards his nose, ''Whose there?''
AAH VERKEERDE ACC.
naja zie maar ffies als mootje. Heb écht geen zin om te wisselen, ja ja excuse moi D: