short post is short
Cypress' tail gave another few soft thumps as he sensed his brother settle himself on the porch next to him. Huh? Oh, yea. I'm fine." One blue eye opening to look at the rusted male for a moment before drifting closed again. "It's just the snow," his nose curled at the s-word in distaste, "I'm sick of it. Sick of looking at it. Sick of chewing it out of my fur and between my toes." Perhaps it was just his cabin fever talking,
It had been fun in the beginning. The first few times that the snow blanketed the earth he had rushed out to play in the wet, cold stuff and loved every second of it. It had been new and exciting then, but the glamour of it had worn away rather quickly as once it had continued to pile up. The days had become cold and bleak in its wake. For Cypress the snow had become a symbol for everything that Crimson Dreams has suffered during its the season of its reign and he was ready for it to be gone.
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