rootin' tootin' cowboys! // big guy, weasel

[HUCKLEBERRY]

the sun had reached it's highest peak in the sky for the afternoon, clouds of white streaking against it's blue canvas. below in the open fields, away from the usual sight of towering pines wherever you turned, was a large, black tom who trotted along a well-worn path that was all but familiar to him which led to a certain destination.

ever since he expanded his horizons passed his home and spent more time with his newly- found group nestled in a much more forested area, huckleberry never had much time to visit as much as he'd like. especially since his family and many others still resided there or so he hoped, maybe his siblings went their own way by now? the smoke didn't give it much thought as he spotted the sight of a large barn house, the dull red paint that coated the wood having seen better days as it was chipping off in places.

a grin spilled onto his maw at it all, home sweet home as they say. the barn cat quickly slipped beneath the white fence, ears swiveling to sit atop his head as he amber hues took in everything, didn't seem much has changed while he was gone. "whew, trekkin' 'ere ain't easy, 'specially with all this heat!" huckleberry chuckles.

@BIG GUY @WEASEL

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[WEASELCLAW]

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╰☆☆ Weasel's trek through the marshes has him pondering, though what about he can't put a paw on. Despite being reared here, the horseplace is not where he wants to die. At 22 moons, the tabby is bored of his safe, comfortable life, and the excursion had given him some sort of strange satisfaction. Even the confrontation with that beautiful pregnant queen had sparked something in him!

Now that he's back home, though, he's come to realize he could never live in such a dark, claustrophobic space. He needs to be able to see the sky. He needs space to run, flex his muscles, chase prey. The marsh could never be that for him, no matter how tired he is of his current abode.

He looks up with interest at the big smoke's return. One of the friendlier barn cats, Huckleberry has been around since Weasel can remember. The tabby realizes it's been a while since he's seen Huckleberry around, and he finds himself staring at the tom curiously. "How far'd you come?" He asks, narrowing his eyes into blue slits. "Lap some water first. The heat is bad today." He gestures towards the trough nearby. It's vile to him to drink after the farm creatures, but he doesn't think Huckleberry cares much.​

—PENNED BY MARQUETTE.​