Fiction: Ruffled Feathers

The werecat tried to nap, but a buzzing sound and a whisper of breeze plagued him.

Orin held back a sigh as he lifted his head from his front paws and stared straight ahead. Every few seconds, Toshi the werehummingbird zipped into and out of view. Orin had strict orders from Mistress not to hurt Toshi; she was harmless, after all, doing nothing but enjoying a little flying.

Mistress knew well that the werehummingbird was teasing the werecat, yet she just smirked slightly and gave Orin no relief.

But Toshi was, in fact, a mild nuisance and not the werecat’s true nemesis.

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