Forgive my lack of updating....gomen nasai! My sister wanted to pass her examination-which she did ^^-so now, I can have the computer back! Huzzah!
SPLASH.
The rat slowly drew up from the water, spluttering as he attempted to clear the water from his throat, still tightly grasping his newfound treasure.
Blinking the icy water out of his eyes, Splinter kicked against the torrents of water still flooding the raindrainage junction, gasping as he reached for an old metal pipe.
It groaned slightly as Splinter pulled himself to the cold concrete, body heaving, but it held.
Welcoming the now steady flow of air back into his lungs, the rat lay there for a minute or two before wobbily standing, trembling slightly. He groaned as he shook himself slightly,
sending water droplets splattering in all directions.
That was the problem of getting wet. His sons-no problem. Not only were they amphiabous creatures, which meant they could breathe an extra thirty nine seconds or so instead of
the human sixty, but they were easy to wipe water off of.
A furry rat, whose fur had to drip dry.....not so much.
Ah, well-he had retrieved what he was looking for. It could dry in front of the fire.
Splinter sneezed lightly.
Well....so could he.
____________________
The rat shook his head as he pulled Donatello's covers over the turtle.
Much to his dismay, his sons still slept when he came home. Sighing, he sat in front of the flickering flames, pensive as he bundled up in a towel, shooting glances beside him as he
did so.
At least it was safe. Woebegone, slightly battered....but safe.
The rat stretched, then, after staring at the ashes quietly tumbling to the floor, reached for the now dry....
Sock bear.
-------
Michelangelo had accidentally dropped his beloved bear into the rain drainage junction, between the metal purifiers last month. Splinter had had to hold back a screaming and
struggling child from leaping straight into the churning waters after it.
Which was easier said then done.
"SENSEI! My bear-it's-" Mikey put up a terrific struggle, sobs becoming evident in his voice.
Splinter had sighed inwardly, tightening his grip on Mikey's shoulders as he turned him around to face him, quietly bending to his level.
Splinter had stitched the "bear" together for a pensive Mikey one rainy day afternoon, when Michelangelo was two years old. He never named the thing officially, but he dragged
that bear with him everywhere, up and down stairs, on sewer excavation trips-till the poor bear's face was wearing away slightly. The rat told his distressed son that there had
been no need to worry; his bear had been much loved.
But Splinter had told his son quite clearly that the bear was probably lost forever wedged between the machinery.
Until Splinter had stepped into the water himself and wrestled the ridiculous thing free.
He had to admit, he felt somewhat idiotic, doing so, but at least he was able to tuck the bear next to Michelangelo once again.
