
It was a lovely night, finest in awhile London had to admit to himself. One couldn't go wrong with the clear skies which lay above letting the pure light of the night sky and stars above have a clear path to bathe the world in a crisp clean light that almost seemed to make things flow. Laying in the grass with his gaze up at the night sky above London almost looked as if a part of the very sky above had fallen to the world below out of curiosity to be closer to something it was always so very far away from. As if the sky being as clear and pure as it was tonight had created some kind of bridge for the world to reach out and touch the earth softy. London loved his pelt, his starry fur. One could say he was a bit more than prideful and vain about it and he wouldn't deny it even for an instance. He quite simply thought himself just plain beautiful.