Word Count: 227
Tagg picked his way along the lakeshore, contemplating retreating to the sheltered roots he’d claimed as a den. There was a light snow falling, sticking to the ends of his fur and weighing it down. He shook his pelt and some of the frozen water fell, but not enough for his preference. He had to say he didn’t miss the deep winters living in the mountain brought, but he was glad to be back home.
Home. That was a strange concept, even though he’d been back for a while. He was definitely starting to feel much more comfortable here. He smiled as he thought back to hunting with Moon; she was nice, and Tagg found that she was in his thoughts fairly often. He wondered what she was up to, and where she chose to sleep.
The scarred male finally made his way back to the small divot in the ground he’d claimed as a nest, but found the tree had released its load into the area. He sighed and began scraping the snow out, not feeling in any particular hurry this evening. He only used one paw to sweep the white powder aside rather than digging with both. He didn’t want to risk gouging the earth and messing up his carefully cultivated bed. He could afford to be patient if it meant a comfortable resting place.
As he worked, he turned his thoughts to the morning. He wanted to find either Namid or Vespertio and talk to them about working towards becoming a guardian. He disliked fighting, but by now he was used to it and he was getting good at it, despite his disability. He might as well use it for something good: protecting his pack.
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