Happy Birthday to us, I guess?

It wasn’t long before Basilisk was as coated as Hazel was. She gave as good as she got, and he expected as much. His sides hurt from laughing, and they both stank of feathers and snow. She pounced on him, and he let her knock him to the ground. Rolling, and pulling her on top of him. Groaning as she placed a wet lick across his cheek. He rubbed the offended fur in her coat, which only served to wipe feathers across his face.

He huffed, amused and exasperated. “We're a mess. I got us some food and… other stuff I snuck from Halo’s den, but maybe we should clean up first…” He suggested. They’d gotten even more coated than he had expected. As he waited for her answer her rubbed his cold snout into her neck a couple more times.


"Basilisk Fatalis"