The pale morning light washed over the thin blades of grass in the field, lighting each delicate leaf as inexorably as time itself. The filaments of sun also illuminated something else - a fluffy ball of deep ebony black and fine alabaster white fur, that just now began to stir. Slay yawned luxuriantly, stretching slowly as he kneaded his blunt claws in the soft earth. Blinking owlishly, the bleary-eyed male looked around with faint amusement, wondering what had awoken him before noon. Did somebody call him...? Nah, the only one who would bother to try would be -
"Cercelee, whaddya want...?" he grumbled good-naturedly, padding up the meadow to where he spotted a flash of white fur. "It's not even morning yet. This is still considered night." He made a show of yawning, and scratched his ear with a hind paw. He was quite drowsy, but no more than usual. He too had not chosen a permanent den to settle into, although he had assumed that Cer had. It suited his lackadaisical attitude to simply lay down whenever he felt tired, so long as no one was around to watch him. Usually around the old graveyard area, but not last night. All his wandering had worn him out, although he felt more refreshed today than he had in some time. Perhaps because he had finally returned to the pack land, and wasn't running away from the shadow of threat.
"Go back to sleep, hun..." He drawled with a wide grin, glancing slyly at her. Did she wake him up to play?
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