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Foggy22
A blind tortoiseshell was sitting in the nursery, her tail curled neatly around her slender frame as she smelt the familiar milkiness of the Nursery, which now clung to her pelt, and the mewing of kits in the distance. Turtleshell's pelt was neatly smoothed against her from a thorough grooming of it, making sure it was nice and clean. If she played with any kits, however, it was sure to be a waste of time. They had a way of destroying anything clean, most of them anyways, so Turtleshell didn't have her hopes of a nice pelt up high.