how's that for entertainment, [snowy]?

[ ABSOLUTELY HATED ] WORKING WITH YOU, [ PERIL ]

lynxchaser’s steps were feather-light and sprung with a jolly bounce, an easy smile plastered across the silver tom’s mouth. big, baby-blues caught the morning light and appeared to shine an even lighter shade of color. oh, what a beautiful day! for the entirety of the pleasant morning, lynxchaser had studiously searched every muddy nook and cranny of shadowclan’s damp territory—which, by the way, required a good washing of his pelt later to get rid of the musky scent of marsh sticking to it—for the perfect present for his darling love. of course, she was not his per say, but that was precisely why lynx had gone on his dawn excursion. a hunt wasn’t enough; no, that was so customary and had no sense of.. personality. everyone did it, and lynxchaser prided himself in doing the unique and extraordinary. and while that was his usual motto to go above and beyond for things he deemed worthy, well, tangledfoot was more than worthy. the sun that lit up his sky, the stars that guided when the moon did not show, tangledfoot was the very feline of his affections; that deserved only the best.

proudly sporting a bouquet of the prettiest, most brightly colored flowers (it only took, like, forever for him to find them, just to make a note of that), lynxchaser sought out the she-cat. his eyes went from one pelt to the other, singling out the artwork myriad of tangledfoot’s patched coat. there was hardly anything like it, so it wouldn’t take much effort to spy her in the crowd. well, really, even if she had the dullest mousy grey fur, he’d still find her anywhere, but that was beside the point. even the idea of seeking her, settling his eyes upon her, sent his heart in a fit of flutters. cool and calm as he may be, lynxchaser swore tangledfoot was the only warrior able to knock him off his feet—both metaphorically and most likely physically. hmm, it’s still rather early. she might still be sleeping. an upbeat hum rumbled in his throat as the slim warrior made his way over.

his nose twitched, an itch beginning to spread. lynxchaser assumed it was the dust, wrinkled his nose, and ignored it. it was no big deal. he had a task at hand. he poked his head into the den, still grinning, calling in the sweetest voice he could muster, “tangledfoot, love? are yo—” what he was about to say was: “are you in here?” but rather what came out was a jumble of sneezes, catching lynxchaser off-guard. delicate flower petals and pollen fell down on him in a shower, and the force of his sneeze had pushed him to land on his butt. “well, that was unexpected.” sneeze. who knew he was allergic to flo—“achoo!”