Late Leaf-bare Lounging [open]

This leaf-bare had been Barleytuft's first, but to him it was by far the strangest. It had started strangely, with the end of leaf-bare turn cold, red, and dark when Lichenmask covered the sun, moon, and stars. Almost as soon as the light had been returned the forest had been hit by the first snow. The WindClan tom's coat hadn't had nearly enough time to thicken in preparation, and the first moon had been frigid. A short time ago there had been a sudden thaw. It had lasted less than a quarter moon, unfortunately, and the moors had been covered in snow yet again. Within the last moon, the weather had been slowly creeping warmer. This day in particular, Barleytuft almost dared to say the weather was nice. The sun blared down through a bright blue, cloudless sky, and not even a breeze ruffled the grasses around the WindClan camp.

Barleytuft lay stretched out on his back, the top of his head pressed against the dirt, legs splayed to expose his belly to the precious sunlight. He had been lounging for some time now following a reasonably successful hunt and the consumption of fresh-kill. The sandy orange tabby warrior let out a sigh, at the edges of which played a purr. He was glad to be sun-bathing, but truthfully, his thoughts were occupied with a certain silver tabby she-cat recovering in the medicine den, and with the pale brown tabby who had done the same not so many moons before. He tried not to dwell on what it meant to be thinking of them both.