[align=center][div style="max-width: 600px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt;"]A sweater is the last thing Melantha needs. Her thick, double-layer pelt is insulated against the frigid weather of the north, and, now that summer is encroaching upon their wintery wonderland, she is becoming uncomfortably hot. Every morning—dawn, more like it—Melantha rises to groom herself before setting off on an early-morning hunt. In the winter, grooming required nothing more than a couple of licks to remove excess grime before she dirtied herself in the hunt. Now, she rolls around on the ground, scratching her back on trees and rocks, in addition to regular grooming in order to rid herself of all the extra fur which is beginning to shed. The cougar is miserably hot and stuffy, and she thinks that her clan mates are sissies for believing that this summer weather is cold in the slightest.
In spite of the fact that Melantha really does not need a sweater, the lithe predator prowls over curiously in response to Jacob’s soliciting. Her present appearance is post-grooming, her sandy colored pelt seeming to shine like tempered gold. Mel almost looks a little nicer than plain, which is her normal, everyday look. Several hours went into ridding herself of all the shed. She better looking amazing. Sagacious olive eyes sweep over the assorted sweaters, each one in different colors and patterns. ”Did you make all of these yourself?” questions the huntress, glancing up to meet Jacob’s eyes. There is an eager gleam within her pallid gaze. No, she does not need a sweater. No, she will never use a sweater. But she wants one. They look soft and comfy. And Melantha is a hoarder. Jacob doesn’t need to know that though.
In spite of the fact that Melantha really does not need a sweater, the lithe predator prowls over curiously in response to Jacob’s soliciting. Her present appearance is post-grooming, her sandy colored pelt seeming to shine like tempered gold. Mel almost looks a little nicer than plain, which is her normal, everyday look. Several hours went into ridding herself of all the shed. She better looking amazing. Sagacious olive eyes sweep over the assorted sweaters, each one in different colors and patterns. ”Did you make all of these yourself?” questions the huntress, glancing up to meet Jacob’s eyes. There is an eager gleam within her pallid gaze. No, she does not need a sweater. No, she will never use a sweater. But she wants one. They look soft and comfy. And Melantha is a hoarder. Jacob doesn’t need to know that though.