[Tavvi]

Originally Posted by Casual Scribbles

Ploverpelt smiled. There was the Nimblewhisker she was used to. It was just so hard on both of them, being misfits. No, not misfits, but misunderstood. There was nothing wrong with either of them, but the Clan didn't understand that. The golden molly wondered if the Clan would ever understand that. She fluffed up her coat and pressed against Nimblewhisker's shoulder, walking with her friend out of camp.

"I bet you'll catch more than I will!" She laughed. She knew it would be true. Her soft golden pelt made it very difficult to blend in on the snowy landscape. Still, she'd try. Not for herself, but for Nimblewhisker. Nimblewhisker needed her more than she needed herself.

(Should we move to territory?)

(Yes, we probably should.)