now we have frost all year round [open]

A growing bundle of fur let out a groan of dismay as the sun began rising over the horizon. With his eyes closed tight, he stretched his limbs, letting out another sound of disappointment. His mother, as sweet as she was, could never persuade his father to let the kit stay in the nursery once he was old enough to eat solid foods. He had to be hardened, his father would say. He must learn to be strong, and stay with the rest of the clan. Unfortunately, he had no other siblings to take the brunt of this fatherly "support".

So the kit, despite his young age, always woke to the morning sun, his fur dusted with sand like the rest of the clan. He hated it. There was never a moment of silence for the young tom to wake peacefully.

The hard, angular jut of Shrikepaw's cheek was delicately perched against the slender expanse of Brindlestar's narrow chest, the weight of his own head gently and inexorably shifting alongside the slow rhythm of his mother's slow and unfaltering breathes. Rough tongue cautiously rasping over the dark expanse of his blotched nose, the gaunt young tom couldn't help but stir softly in response to the gradual blossoming of morning commotion- internal mechanisms gradually increasing his bodily awareness to the warmth of the early morning. Heart and breath slowly yet persistently increasing until they were sufficiently functioning with the intent to keep him entirely awake - his newly heightened senses lending him an immediate and in-depth awareness to the soft echo of the bleak expanse of the camp's surroundings - his bleary gaze gradually settled upon the pale shape of Frostkit.

Against his spine, Brindlestar's limbs softly and rhythmically flexed against the unwanted stimulus of Shrikepaw's slow awakening. Lips peeling back to reveal a sharp mouthful of pristine teeth, which sparked alight in the soft light of the morning sun, the blotched tom's jaw clicked softly under the fierce strain of his yawn. "You're awake early." He drowsily mewed after a few heartbeats, sharp gaze uncharacteristically soft under the burden of drowsiness.

"Can't sleep with this..." the small tom wince as he stared towards the dawn's sun. His paws stretched forward, toes spreading and claws raking the sand below. Leaving his pristine fur dirtied with sand from his restless sleep, the tom rolled over, stretching all four limbs out in a very exaggerated manner.

"I could say the same to you," Frostkit huffed in return, his golden gaze turning to stare at the tom as he rested against the usually commanding leader they shared. He couldn't help but be jealous, being able to rest against his mother like that.