A/N :I'm rusty, haven't written proper for a few years and I'm borrowing Susan Hill's style. One shot on 5 year old Morgan getting frightened of a thunderstorm, or so to be blunt.
Enjoy.
In which Morgan does something when frightened
As soon as he had gotten himself comfortable, there came a rumble of thunder.
Morgan Jenkins froze and lay still, afraid and unsure. There came a second low growl from outside his window.
Then a sudden crack of lightning from Porthaven that rang
through his room.
Morgan's heart missed a beat.
He curled his feet in, gripped his blanket. He dared not move.
Then the hammering of angry raindrops that drummed on the window pane, clawing their way in.
I must close it, he thought. I must close it or I will drown.
With mustered courage, he lifted one leg off the bed, then the other, onto
the cold hard floor.
He took a sharp breath; marched to the window.
He closed it with a soft click.
The rain poured outside. He stood still, uncertain of what to do.
The room started to grow warm and stifling. The darkness pressed in.
Then the crash of lightning that banged off the walls, lighting up his room in a small, brief, blank second.
Morgan stood paralyzed, his eyes blinded, his ears blown deaf.
His heart froze.
Then instinct took over. Screaming with mute terror, he ran, scuttling out of his door into the dark corridor. With animal panic, his ears flat, his fur frizzed, pupils dilated, mind ricocheting with fear. He dove towards the visible oak door, wrenching it open with a hand and plunging into the warm shadows.
Then he paused, mind conflicting and confused. The air was
peaceful. Welcoming.
Giving up all his thoughts of fleeing, he entered slowly into the darkness,
treading carefully. His breathing calmed.
He arrived at the source of emanating peace.
Then with feline grace, he leaped, landed on the soft comforter and prodded his way below it, until he was certain of the protection and warmth the two bodies gave.
He snuggled down and curled his arms in front of his chest.
Then he slept.
Howl was the earliest to rise, making a weird noise at the back of his
throat.
A sound of annoyance.
There was something furry tickling his back. Furry, soft and warm.
He sat up quickly.
There on the bed was his wife, her red-gold hair a halo that radiated onto the pillow. Curled up next to her was his son, a full five years and with a head of beautiful black locks.
He blinked.
Whereby he finally noticed the black tail that lay in a curl where his
back was moments before.
Grin tugging at his mouth, he slipped out of bed.
Chip of the old block indeed, he mused, summoning his fluffy towel and stumbling to the bathroom.
A/N: In which Morgan turns into a cat. I've been musing about it and it appeals better than Morgan the normal in circles Morgan turning into a cat by himself? Even better. Notes on last line: 'In which there is a lot of witchcraft', Howl turns into a cat. raises eyebrows for those who didn't figure.
440 words. woot, short. HMC needs more fanfics and I'm going to contribute, no matter how miserable this may be.
