- Augustus sunk into his bed, yawning sleepily as the bedroom door clicked shut for the night. The house was quiet for the hour, and while he was in bed and clearly tired, his brain was going a hundred miles per hour. He was nearing the end of his time as a Freshling. Soon he'd graduate to the real classes and have teachers instead of caretakers.
The boy ran his claws over the edge of his quilt, pulling it up high under his chin. He was fond of his custom quilt for many reasons; for one, Meadow had made it for him with the help of her parent and that was really the biggest selling point, but two, it reminded him of all sorts of good memories. The hybrid had a very active imagination, and while he usually kept his lips shut unless around his best friend, he was getting better on his spelling and writing things down on paper.
Augustus wasn't entirely sure being a writer was something you went to school for (maybe it fell under English?) but he loved illustrating his tiny books with just a couple pages. He'd need an actual artist in the future to create anything pretty, but writing books for others to consume sounded like a great idea to him. Turning over to his side, he smiled faintly as he caught glimpse of the spot where Meadow had hand stitched his name in.
Meadow seemed to enjoy his stories, mostly just crayon pictures with a babble of words from his mouth. Maybe in the future he'd try them out on a few different audiences? He was still too nervous to speak to most, but as he moved onto big kid classes, he'd have to get more comfortable with public speaking sooner than later. While slightly afraid, the small confident spark inside his chest made him optimistic that one day he could be a great storyteller.
