Sweetkit slowly stirs awake, dried grass and moss crinkling as she moves. Tanglefern looms over her, eyes wide and twinkling.
"What were you and Bearface thinking, being out so long?" He scolds, tail lashing with worry. "You're lucky the patrol found you when they did, or you both could have roasted."
"Ain't 'er fault, Tanglefern." Another voice huffs. "I led 'er out there."
Tanglefern's head tilts to the occupied nest across the burrow, and Sweetkit idly follows his gaze. When her eyes land on Bearface—a thin strip of moss wrapped around his paws, but alive, indisputably alive—she can't quite suppress the excited squeak that escapes her. She quickly hops to her feet, but Tanglefern pushes her back to her bedding with a deft paw.
"I can't let you go quite yet, Sweetkit." Tanglefern tells her, readjusting her messy bedding into something more presentable and sanitary. "Cougargleam and Coniferstripe found you both out cold at the border, and I can't let either of you wander off unless I'm certain you're in good health. No mistakes."
Sweetkit lets out a pitiful sputter, and flops back onto the moss bed.
Well, it could be worse. It looks like Miss Molly was at least nice enough to bring them back to camp!
Moon 3, Pt. 8.
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