if you don't love me at my stinkiest...

Ophie knew she was treading on thin ice, that if her mother caught wind of her current condition she'd be in big big trouble. It wasn't as though she wanted to be bad or that she got a kick out of getting on her mother's nerves she just...felt most comfortable when covered in muck and mud. It had started simply as a bit of fun, a means of passing time but somehow, somewhere down the line it had spiralled out of control and now she was unbathable: the stinkiest Fatalis around. Not really a title to be proud of, to be honest. She wasn't sure why and despite all of her budding insecurities she wasn't the sort to think too much about things that made her unsure, nervous. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Besides, despite the clumps of drying mud and strings of seaweed that draped over her form she didn't smell that bad. She had a bath.....three days ago, was it? Maybe longer, she wasn't keeping count.

Slinking along, Ophie kept low and quiet as she hurried through the plains and moved east, making her way towards Mort's tree house.  She hadn't asked if she could use it too but...surely he wouldn't say no, right? Out of all of her older siblings he was by far the most laid back, always ready and eager to play and smile as though he actually liked hanging out with her! With a wiggle of her mucky bum and a press of her kitty claws, Ophie prepared to climb.