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Gricko knows Kremy hates when people touch his pots and pans, but, really, what does Kremy expect the rest of them to do while he and Gideon sleep in? Starve? Poor Hootsie is already wasting away!
Unfortunately, Gricko forgot that he can’t cook. The oatmeal he’d attempted had turned into a charred mass at the bottom of the pot, and Hootsie just kept getting thinner.
“You can’t just leave it like that, Gricko,” Frost says, “Kremy won’t be happy.”
“I know that, Frosty! But how the hell am I supposed to clean this? It’s rock solid!” Gricko dispaires.
“I will help you, just– summon some water for us. This might take a while.”
~~
“Oh, oh! You know what we should do?” Twig asks as she flits around the room, pulling blankets out of closets and cushions off of couches. “We should make a blanket fort!”
“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Gricko says, “Do you want to build a blanket fort Hootsie? Such a cornerstone of childhood, I can't believe I‘ve never built one with you! Ohhhhh, I’m such a bad Dad!”
“A blanket fort?” Kremy asks, a grimace on his snout.
“I think it sounds fun,” Frost says. “How does one build a blanket fort, Twig?”
“Well, you need lots of blankets and some things to hang them on! Like these couches!”
Frost looks at Kremy, who sighs, “Fine.”
~~
Gideon is half-asleep, brushing his beard, when he feels something snap against his cheek, waking him up. He pulls the comb away, finding one of the bristles is missing.
Shocked, Gideon digs around in his beard until he finds– the missing bristle, snapped off at the base. How in the–?
“Something wrong?”
Gideon jumps, “Fu– Frosty! You can’t sneak up on me like that!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
“Well, it’s fine– actually, you got perfect timing. Could you mend this for me? My beard broke the damn thing.”
“Of course.” It takes Frost less than a minute to fix the broken comb.
Gideon grins when Frost hands it back, good as new. “Thanks, Frosty.”
~~
Hootsie likes being awake at night.
She likes to stay around the camp, likes to sit and listen to the animals in the dark. Sometimes, if she’s quiet, she even catches a snack.
Tonight, she has a target.
The rat hiding in the tree hollow pokes its nose into the air, stops. Slowly comes out of hiding.
Hootsie pounces.
Victorious, she returns to her Papa, nosing the tent flap open and curling around her father. She nudges him with her beak, hooting.
“Wa–hm–Hootsie?” Gricko’s eyes crack open. “What is it?”
She drops the rat on his chest and hoots, which seems to wake him up
“You… Is this for me?” She hoots. “You got me a rat snack..? Ohh Hootsie, you’re the best!” he cries, arms wrapping around her neck.