And here's to you, Professor Whistlefoot

Cassiel's travels had brought him away from the land where he'd buried his sire beneath a cairn. He wondered if he was supposed to be saddened to know that he was an orphan now. He wondered if Senka would be if he told her. He decided it was better not to find out, and resolved again not to tell her.

Glancing around his current location, his nose wrinkled. Water was everywhere, even where he'd need to walk unless he wanted to clamber in an undignified manner over uneven mangrove roots and risk falling into the water anyway, so his paws felt disgusting and wrinkled beneath the grey fur and the chilly autumn air meant that they were starting to hurt from the cold. He'd smelled the scents of loners strongly enough here to indicate that they lived here, but he found that hard to believe. Who could possibly put up with this nonsense for longer than it took to walk through?

He gave a grumpy, faint growling noise as he attempted to flick a little of the water off one paw. Ugh. He was going to have to try to take a break up on those roots to warm his paws before he went any further. Grumbling to himself under his breath, he hopped up onto the flattest, driest rootball he could find and tucked his paws underneath him. Since his belly fur had gotten wet in places too, it was a little unpleasant, but he knew eventually his body heat would start to cut through the effects of the cool fall weather. Eventually. With an imprecation he settled himself down to brood.